A Moment

For a moment, it all makes sense. In this moment, there are no thoughts of the mundane dirty stretch that will follow - though one should probably be more pragmatic than to ignore it. But that's what makes this moment so great, so pure, if you will. So I live my life like this, sustaining myself with one moment whilst dreaming of the next. I guess it's always been this way. So shall it be.

An Image

Crack open and eat me, like a coconut, satiating and propagating in the same stroke, with too thick nectar and slippery flesh.

I-N-G

Life can never be fully conveyed through writing. Experiences have to be pared down, and little objects focused upon in order for Life to fit into twelve point font. Perhaps in writing, one loses the mundane, murky routines of daily life, and tries to grasp the solid ropes of meaning and action. Its like the cries of "Revolution!" in a dying country.

I realize this because the last few days have been such a tangle of emotion that any attempt to commit it to paper has sounded two-dimensional and shallow. Such a tangle, such a stale mess. The only accurate description I can give is that of my optimistic conviction, that with a few well placed tugs, this tangle of anxiety, hurt, apprehension, boredom, and anger would turn into a tapestry - granted not necessarily a beautiful one.

...

who knew that this would hurt so much. i'm stalked by a deep, bewildering sense of loss. i miss you. i miss you.