26 Broken Strings

Our pace slows and our eyes grow heavy making it more and more difficult to see the end of the line. Those observing from the sides wonder why our eyes fail to focus and why our feet falter as they progress forward. Our minds are clouded and they cannot see.

The ghost behind us knows our pain and our pleasure and she wants us to remember the former. The suppression of the latter is her objective, and she is good what she does. So long has it been since we started running that we have forgotten the taste of water and the meaning of leisure. Somewhere along the twisted paths, we forgot where we were going and why we were in such a hurry.

Waiting at the end of our journey is a beautiful maiden who knows how to drive away the dreadful apparition that pursues and torments us. She is in a place free from doubt and full of fresh, cold water. If we could find the right path, we would remember the feeling of knowing where we are and our reasons for being there. We would remember what it's like to be at peace.

A Mind Without Substance

Hang your head low, brother. Tonight, we raise the white flag. Tonight we are dead. Don't bring the shame home to your family. Hang your head low and don't make a sound. Tonight we mourn.

Tonight we embrace our mistakes, and we learn to showers ourselves in hate.

Four Curtain

There was a plan once. According to it, all would end up well and we'd end up together. Things had other places to go though. First there was all; then there was none. Then there were three and the three had fun.

Now, the plan has shifted and, more honestly, evaporated. Each day is a song played by ear that's simultaneously being created. The real paradox is the lack of life in our living space. My rampage was an attempt at opening some eyes, specifically my own. I know some won't approve. Go ahead and judge me while I fill my head with something different, but don't pretend you didn't judge me before.

Here's to tomorrow for still being there no matter how many times we betray him, for sticking with me through the failed plans, for not hating me when I hated him.

I have a craving to write about my big plans and my desire to do or be something new to the world. The problem is that the plans are just an idea that can't materialize and if they did, they would just mutate into something hideous.

All I know for certain is that I know nothing for certain.

Hanging From the Top

The dream ends and his eyes open. The pain in his head and his stomach make him regret the night before. As memories creep into his head, he finds reasons to lament each and every one of them. He asks himself why he did what he did and finds that there is no answer. He then applies the same thought process when he asks himself why he does what he does.

He gets out of bed and skips breakfast. The pain in his stomach infects his heart, and the poison in his head seeps into his mind. The day ahead is daunting, and the days behind are disheartening.

He thinks back to the dream he was having. All of his friends were there and they were all smiling. He wonders why the universe decided that he had to wake up and his anger grows. He gets into his car and thinks about all the places he wants to go. He wants to visit his true love and destroy his pure hatred but instead finds himself performing mind-numbing mediocrity. He returns home and waits for the dreams to take him away again.

"The plan was to drink until the pain over, but what's worse: the pain or the hangover?" --KW

Return to Sender

I've been trying to write about so many things lately, but can't find the words to dress them in. It seems they will have to go unloved and forgotten for now while other things are given attention.

My head is dancing in circles and my heart aches for stability. In twelve hours, my life will change yet again. The pace will quicken and stress will rise. The faces will change and I'll rearrange them to fit the memories of things I long to see again. It's just not the same. It never is.

I feel cheated by time. Life is a series of moments and time is the one that keeps these moments transient. Moves us through the bad and shoves us passed the good.

As soon as I'm settled, accustomed, and content, time ruins its own precious moments.

I Was Born

No longer will I keep myself locked up for fear of happiness. Both of my feet are on the ground, and my head is level. The pieces of me are ready to be rearranged.

The wild side is beckoning and I will not deprive it of my answer.

"I am uncaged. I am uncaged."

dinferences

A new age brings new thoughts. I have a foot on both sides of everything and I'm being stretched beyond my body's capacity of elasticity. I've got to develop some decisiveness before I fall into the middle and find myself stuck in a purgatory of ambivalence.

Despite the confusion, I still know what I want, and I'm still chasing after intangible thoughts. As long as they are unattainable, they will be irresistible, and I will be drawn in over and over again.