cissim
there is no direct path or direct image to the world i see. everything my eyes and tongue direct to a straight path, it seems that there is no right path. here i wonder in the foggy forest making my slithery path to the unknown.
i feel guilt dripping down the tips of my fingers as I caress the shaking shoulders. no liquid comes out of my eyes to show that i am swayed with you as i stay with you. as you grief, all i do is behold the pain in your eyes and say i offer my condolences
what does it mean to grief for others? how do you come out of a lagging shell of self and embrace the pain of those you behold, and do you really know like you really say? or is just a social construct of performance that you learned that you had to play?
sometimes i wonder what it would feel like to die. the moment when the dark shadow passes, what thoughts would cross my mind. would my mind fold into endless darkness in mid action or in mid sentence. would the fair but cruel time run me over in mid action and can i then grab the ankle of passing time to finish my act before the spot lights go off?
the flyer fell off from the door by the sudden force of the drunken college kids running on the hall. Here I stand, watching the last leaf fall. Well.
feel the unease edges of her mind. taste the crevices and the valleys she has to offer. then fall. an abrupt vertigo takes the unfamiliar body downwards. the terror of losing himself echoes as he drowns in her bed. Alas, she is a cliff. take one step and you lose yourself, addicted to uncontrolled vertigo, you find yourself falling every time.
standing on the cliff, the view is spectacular. the travel feels the wind whisper the news of his love from the west as it glides past his arms.
does will requires power to embody its desire? her eyes followed the pandora box departing from a trodden path and walking past the lamp post across the road. the defeated gaze lingers at the house as it is the only thing that a defeated can do.