Syncing the current of change that is happening within the people you surround yourself with. Feeling their pull on your hair for the words you thought you wanted to tell them. Their eyes, pleading you to remain indifferent to their cause, to their situation, their situation an entirely different situation to you, ultimately - we're all effected. A build up of emoticons, transgression of electronic sympathy.. a walk way for dexterity and useless casualties, the billowing heap of everything once fluid, suddenly becomes chunky with aspirations of actions that we didn't know happened until long after the fact. Begging for the truth, but scolded for the information, wanting to want what you want and getting exactly what it is but not the way you wanted it. Disclosures for the broken heart, the weeping mind, worrying about people and time and places and cuts, the cuts that do not bleed, the ones not visible to the eyes but the current which has synced to your company is resulting in potent results of descriptive pain, you keep answers short, and conversations shorter, disguising and hiding from the worries on your heart, the beating tidbits of information that are feeding your soul with saucy feeling you're unsure of the correct response. May I spin again, forget my last quotation, may I buy a vowel or two, can I pick another case, this game show host looks a lot like you but you're eyes are hoping I win, while the TV knows I'm bound to lose and whatever I do win will be raped for taxes and i'll be left with customary toothpick - but you... if I lose, what will you leave me with, a consolation prize.. a gag gift.. or will you stumble right out of my life and watch me sync tunes to my wounds and feed of the sounding information of shoulda, coulda, woulda. Would Yah?
No comments:
Post a Comment