I had selfishly calculated interest into the thing I had loved the
most. Then I turn around and sail from it on a boat with wings, smiling
placidly with glazed eyes.
In this ditch I lose myself. Not looking just leaping. The risk involved, nill. There can be no yes's.
I
cannot define the moment of breakage. Simple gestures and aspects of
myself which tear this paper plane. A paper plane wet with
indifference and dismality. My darkness consumes, yet I self-destruct
with a smile like an atomic bomb. The dark night is beauty and I have
always been an owl. No denial to answer to.
And my heart
becomes weak. Lymph nodes swell with the molds of leaves. Lungs
blocked restricting the winds. And we all have a picnic in this
thunderstorm. It is equal and true. The scrapes are for iodine and
the drinking for alcohol.
You may have caught the glint
of perception from this wave; however, this beast is golden, immune,
and discrete. Just like your thoughts. Your secrets. Your depravity.
These days are a wet shining leaf, absolved of petty cares. Blinking shall suffice.
There is a greater plan at work here.
Life can't be so serious if no one makes it out alive anyway.
May 21, 2009
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