Saturday, November 25, 2006
We are the breaths called suffering humanities; struggling fixation, chronic frustration. The days pass like blurs by our car windows, leaving traces of who the what the where the fcuk. Numbers hit hard and fast, but it was the disappointment that overlooked every heavied sigh, that killed me. I promise you: this hardly comes easily. I can feel myself wasting away, today.
(But I am the infinity you make me out to be, I am the bait of the hook; the risk a fool once took! I am capable and in view, and I'd make you doubletake..if I didn't catch you the first time. Because I did, as you glanced a second too long and a smirk too short. There is too much, beyond the lines I've drawn, so much sans my preoccupation.)
I hope to be given reason to make more sense, soon.
(But I am the infinity you make me out to be, I am the bait of the hook; the risk a fool once took! I am capable and in view, and I'd make you doubletake..if I didn't catch you the first time. Because I did, as you glanced a second too long and a smirk too short. There is too much, beyond the lines I've drawn, so much sans my preoccupation.)
I hope to be given reason to make more sense, soon.
