cafune
I wish it was easy to see my horizon, both figuratively and literally.
However, I am cursed with bad vision and bad decision making, so I see nothing but haze.
Bob Ross makes it look so easy.
"Pack only the essentials"
And it boils down to this: what is absolutely necessary for me to have in order to carry out my human existence on Earth?
If there was to be some sort of hypothetical apocalypse, what is essential to my survival?
I do not want to build my existence upon this essence of life.
Existing is not living.
"What's on the agenda for today?," she asked.
I dont know. I never know.
My actions are inspired by whim,
but not in a compelling, spontaneous way.
I am tired: I sleep. I am hungry: I eat.
If only it wasn't so simple.
shit. stop playing that stupid game for a second. look at me. i'm here, a carbon based life form, with boobs and everything. you're not looking at me. jesus. stop telling me about how fast your elevators are in your stupid tiny tower. i don't care.
Beware of the girl under the stare
She fights not for light or what is fair.
Her actions are pressured, not by reason or rhyme,
But by his selfish desires, and she's running out of time.
Beware of the girl under the stair,
For he selfishly he hides her there
Her hopes, dreams, colors have withered
Her smile remains nothing but a shiver.
Once she was a girl so fair,
With flowered dresses and feathered hair
You should have seen her smile, her grace!
She wrapped others wounds with lace.
She is but a caged creature now,
Forced to sing only for his never pleased brow
Her voice has lost it's strength, he songs have lost their meaning
Her dress is stained, withered
And she is forever singing.
Ever since I was a child I have pictured a tall, faceless figure at the sound of the word. Even with the presence of a committed relationship, that figure has not taken on a face. I do not find this discouraging...the word husband bears intimacy....it is warm and close, yet heavy on the tongue. I need time for the word to settle into my vocabularly....then, perhaps someday the word will become more tangible and my nameless figure will acquire a face.
A story never really comes to an end.
This promise was less tangible. I could hear it echo in his empty conscience.
It's because she thinks it is a game.
That's why she does it.
She doesn't care about the money.
She doesn't care about his pain.
We are all but players in her twisted game.
I've been patient for you.
Honestly, I have.
But I grow restive in my wake,
only to escape to deceit in my sleep.
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