thane0t

recursivity of the strangest kind, the kind that matures, and forces me to reevaluate everything i know about You and me and what is. the child inside, clutching for comfort. my gut response, to sob for innocence lost. can i sit still for a while please and stay in love with the stars?

fear of defining, of the shape which limits me, by which i am judged.

Warm tones of regret sting richly. In your hands fleet swiftly. Garrulous becomes me. All but safety resides. Into nothingness we go, searching for the stars; the quiet place where feeling is real and never is now. Breach the surface and reach deep into the tangible dark where the stars glisten infinitely far. But for now we wait. Clarity eludes where all but feeling resides. The intellectual rises up to sharply hold what cannot simply be. Around the intangible dark I wrap and fold into myself. No reality brings such pain as this. How does one deal with this? There must be a way around. Otherwise this wouldn't be worth it. She. Reach up an

Hope is a simple thing. It doesn't wait for you to reach in. Take hold of me, wrap me tight. Rounded wholes collide, my inside. Reverie. Glisten. Bright.

turn the thing with shiny parts which clanks and fails in weary hearts. draw it forth by sweat and dread machine i am inside my head. always has and always will? no more! no more! yet we still. digits grow as smiles not, yet we more and more we got. looking, looking, hard to find! blaming, naming, hide inside. give away our eager hands to them, the blamed, for nought but sand. we the clank and we the choke. freedom! fright! in we the yoke.

He didn't expect it to end this way, but here it was: the fullness of inevitability. Strangely enough he wasn't scared any more. All of his life had lead up to this point. The veil was almost more tangible than his blood-soaked hands. No more shopping. No more phone conversations. No more holding hands. No more waking up in the morning. No more movies. No more sun-baked paving next to the swimming pool. No more pudding after family lunches. No more... As the throbbing pain in his chest faded into a dizzy blur, his heavy ambitions to make a difference in the world suddenly lifted, and for a moment he thought he was breathing freely again. An

And so we seek life elsewhere, apart from ourselves. Where is this that we seek it? Is it within ourselves or is it really outside of ourselves? Where does this sense of separateness come from? It's only in my tears that I confront the harsh reality of what is. This inherent tension seems almost planted, as if it were to be exactly so, such that our existence were to be the pursuit of the solution of this tension within.