Every day is a countdown towards something-
a meaning marker. Once we are cognizant of this we become more interwoven-
involved with this idea. Mortality
you plague us with meaning:
find one.
If we try and escape this question,
it manifests into distractions. Some of these are highly sophisticated:
sex. lust. drugs. money. all of these are opportunities to experience
a rush. a thrill. a feeling of a moment, fleeting. An experience of recognizing our
mortality. These distractions do not answer its question, though.
Mortality asks us, what is your meaning?
I ask, have you done anything to respond?
A glimpse into some of my life experiences, realizations, or just the every day strange that occurs.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Paradox Lapse
On top of a mountain-
Stop.
Feel my hand squeezing yours
with a gentile firmness
that holds you here
just for a moment in this
place.
Breathe in
and feel the breath from my mouth
as it touches your breath
while they dance around one another winding into intoxication
until -Stop.
Breathe out.
It's over, or at least it has been treated that way.
Despite all the water and cool reserve
hidden down in the corners our our pockets are tiny fires.
We have keept our distance long enough for them to be squashed down to
manageable sizes;
ignored, with hopes that in being left unattended they become silent, smokey whispers-
Whispers, until your departure initiated a return where
my words got too close to
You, always distant and silent and
me, always hot and laughing.
I am uncomfortable because of the way you look at me,
the way you look through me.
You make me see myself,
feel myself on fire,
naked - Stop.
Open eyes.
I'm in my bed and dreaming in spirals around you
waking to a thought about how you might want
communication
a friend
anything...
or maybe I am just projecting.
What you want is a mystery.
What I want is a paradox
because it is so simple
yet so complex:
I only want to know
you.
Stop.
Feel my hand squeezing yours
with a gentile firmness
that holds you here
just for a moment in this
place.
Breathe in
and feel the breath from my mouth
as it touches your breath
while they dance around one another winding into intoxication
until -Stop.
Breathe out.
It's over, or at least it has been treated that way.
Despite all the water and cool reserve
hidden down in the corners our our pockets are tiny fires.
We have keept our distance long enough for them to be squashed down to
manageable sizes;
ignored, with hopes that in being left unattended they become silent, smokey whispers-
Whispers, until your departure initiated a return where
my words got too close to
You, always distant and silent and
me, always hot and laughing.
I am uncomfortable because of the way you look at me,
the way you look through me.
You make me see myself,
feel myself on fire,
naked - Stop.
Open eyes.
I'm in my bed and dreaming in spirals around you
waking to a thought about how you might want
communication
a friend
anything...
or maybe I am just projecting.
What you want is a mystery.
What I want is a paradox
because it is so simple
yet so complex:
I only want to know
you.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Balance
Don't think too much,
it will negate how you feel.
Don't act too fast,
it will negate what you think.
Don't feel too slow
it will negate what you do.
Don't do too little,
it will negate how you act.
it will negate how you feel.
Don't act too fast,
it will negate what you think.
Don't feel too slow
it will negate what you do.
Don't do too little,
it will negate how you act.
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