Monday, July 9, 2012
Some days, you’re like me. You look up, you see this amazing vision of the world in all its wild, tameless reality. The sun bursting through the darkened, heavy clouds. You realize exactly what you want to be doing. You want to *want* to be sharing it with someone. All you really want to do is go home and listen to sad music.
You want to know why you’re alone, and why you don’t care. Most of all, you wonder, if you don’t care, why you wish you could crumble to dust, piece by piece, drifting away on the wind. Maybe you even see it in your mind. Starting in your stomach, expanding outwards, like someone recorded mud turning to dirt, to crackled saharah, to flyaway dust. Like they recorded it and layered it over you in hyper-drive.
It’s not a particularly excruciating feeling, which is the weirdest part. It’s almost a resigned understanding of my inconsequential existence warring with a desire to matter.
Time crawls by, a molasses stream, the people speed along their ways.
The pointless stares at empty walls, can never help me understand.
Music pulses, a foreign language, artists sing emotion unrestrained
All of my masks to hide my face, leave the world hidden to me.
Twists and curls, amidst my lungs, whisper incomprehensibly to me.
A guide to suss out the intangible, was never given to me.
The corners of my world curl in, the center burns unrestrained.
Where do I belong, here, now when I don’t know how?