He was like water to me – clear and transparent. I could drink him up in a breath but I didn’t want to. It wasn’t cool. He didn’t deserve to be forgotten so easily afterwards. Nonetheless, it is an interesting world that we are living in – everyone is trying to close their eyes and absolve their sins. But it takes more, so much more.
It’s truly a stasis.
Hold big thoughts and spend them on nothing.
The doors are closing now, run to the window.
I will await down to catch your spilled feelings.
These little black dots just came out of their oblivion. They try to form themselves again on the other side. I like that try, I like that someday in which it all be worthy. But the message will never arrive, the birds dropped it in the ocean of forgetfulness. The idea is gone. But look at the people. Ever since you can see you look at them. But see them. Feel them. They don’t want what they got, but they also don’t want what we have in mind to give them. It’s only a silence of actions. You can’t live in a corrupt society and be still. You can only dance. It’s a representation of a thought that sometimes arrives more than late. And you dance. You dance on the sound of screams and in the background are their horrified faces. You can’t deny what lives inside your voice. You cannot escape what wants to live through your voice. And they don’t have a clue. You hold the clue on every step of your dance. But the ground beneath you cracks because of the power of their voices and the horror. And I don’t like what they do to you. I don’t like the trend. They are only there to breed guilt in your mind. This city is the pearly elitism of our fleeting time here. If we walk ourselves out of the economic system, the birds will still be flying, but the voices will still be heard too. We cannot wash away entire lifetimes. You cannot search for the message in the ocean that’s not yours. Unfair, we are not where we want to stand tonight. Unfairly, we are too close to the ground to stand up so easily. It’s just sad. Because people can be bad in so much more aspects than those in which they allow themselves to be good. That’s why they keep falling. Like leaves. But we cannot keep them from falling on the ground. No one is strong enough to fight the inevitable.
Comfort is the feature of the closed mind.
A voice it is, they say.
It is not even a whisper anymore, if you ask me.
My mind is gambling with `yes` and `no`.
Oh, what a performance of doubt.
Simply, there are people who are worthy to suffer for. But don’t take the short cut, never take the short cut.
There’s where the story stays.
A water that shares too many seas. A sea that shares too many shores.