If you never break youll never know how, to put yourself back together. And if we never fall down, youll never learn how to brush off the dirt on your knees, and tell yourself, this isnt me, im free and this is not all that i can or will be. Or wont be, whats the difference? Is my self taught fascination for a life i can only dream about, my own undoing? or am i simply reacting to the chemicals procreating within my head, all assembled to make one thing clear but unsaid: That im alive and so are you. Even when it feels like the night resembles the reflection of who and what weve become deep inside, well if the tides can change then so can we and well flow just as eagerly and carelessly, but with such beauty. All of this it amazes me, and i can only picture it in somber incandescent shades of dreams but reality and sleep paralysis are all interconnected and if i hadn't said it then i know you've thought it. Flawlessly sewn together, were the moments of our lives, and we walked through every door not knowing that the lights would be off or that the walls would have voices. Speaking and listening, just as much as we were hopelessly suffering without telling anybody. I knew more about you from just looking at you then i knew about myself, you spoke in secrecy and silence, but the words from your mouth resonated in vibrant violence. Almost definite and deafening. And maybe im not saying a word to you, but im also not admitting a thing to myself, Half whisper, half melody, i sculpt this with your image. This all comes down to rules in poetry. But when the sun breaks through the window pane. The glimmer and gleam peak first, and on my desk theres a picture. A memory suspeneded in time i guess, this makes no sense why i keep here on my desk. But part of me enjoys teh way the light seems to amplify it. Inanimate but it speaks louder then i ever could, and id show you what i meant if i ever could. Im not getting any ideas on how to act about this.. And if the waters calm, if they should ever decrease, then let me know exactly whats the point of this. Redundant suffering, well wheres the progression in that? Is it hard to except that the only talent you lack is the fact you cant admit you think about death often? And maybe not death in a coffin, but the death of your mentality, your ability to feel. Youre losing all motion, youre looking for pleasure, some sort of defeat, it all turns to anger and danger. Well maybe the grass isnt always greener in your neighbros yard,it looks so pristine how it glistens how it comes back to life in the light. But perhaps you can look a little closer, climb over that white picket fence, and tkae a gander at how the grass i just weeds but perspective is a visual disease.
