Saturday, April 16, 2011

better safe than sorry

Routine is hoping for expectations. Believing that you can plan your way out of danger, that you can put out a fire before its begun to burn, that you can learn without ever having to learn. It’s a cycle of denial, a foolish child talking to the senile. I don’t want to know what happens next. I wont ever have to put anything into perspective when its all coming so quickly that I cant possibly expect it. I couldn’t even regret it when i knew that what happened was the end. It was the beginning, the origin, the sin that led to seeking the more than the knowledge of the whole plan. I'll stand firm with moving feet, with sleepless sleep, dreaming of a deep enough crease that I can slide into and never be able to escape. A trail that leads so hopelessly far into the crater that the walls become my whole and the depth my soul. I'm wanting ceaselessly for the wind to lean against me, for my projected reality to blink and become my enemy. I want to be an abstraction that wraps itself in relapse before imploding into an anomaly. I want to leave before ive arrived. I want the tears from my eyes to evaporate as they slide down my cheek, then immediately pour down from white clouds onto a crowd of thirsty drowning nouns

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