boredom paramount life is easy.
simple plagiarism is easy
ha ha. i made you google that last line, huh?
pathetic good and life. life good and pathetic. good life pathetic and.
krut. kurt. turk. truk.
happy, yes. complete, never!
i knew i was in trouble when my age needed dashes a couple years ago but this is serious.
i've been sitting in the same chair for too long sitting and expiring and waiting for something better to come around i've searched and scoured and not in vein it took a while but being here is feels short my heart refueled i write i hold i feel i'm alive. the pencil shakes i'm pensive sure but when the chips are down you're where i turn.
the leaves you lied in fall around all the time. the leaves i lie in fall once again. forward i step and backward i fall but my happiness is solid and i’ve shown how i feel.
the subtle touch of your hand against mine, the soft kiss on my cheek as you lay by my side. my heart beats fast, my mind beats slow, i break it all.
hi my name is nick. i’m 80% dumb. this is my life.
Pitter pitter patter patter.
Drip drop drip. I’m falling asleep, I’m slipping away, as far as it can get.
I try to hold the reigns, I can’t control the bulge, I lose my grasp of this.
Sudden shocking balls of light. Cooling flakes of snow. Broken
shattered glasses, broken box of family photos.
I’ve run the pipe cleaner through the holes, I’ve cleaned up the dirt.
As hard as I’ve tried and long as I’ve pushed I lose my headstart I
lose my handle I fall and slip.
Things that are so different always come full circle. My palms sweat
in my dreams of that and my teeth grind, my jaws clench. I wish the
tides would change and I could see my way to forgive. I want to know
you again but you’ve broken so many of my rules.
disabling nothingness that haunts our moves. step one. step two. step twelve.
my hands provide the motions, my work provides the need, my mind provides the ability. they assemble and just become a mess.
i’ll get it done soon. i always get it done soon. for some reason soon hasn’t seemed soon enough.
my lungs fill with that familiar scent. like the lost hat, the lost bear, the lost scarf and the lost words i know it’s still there but i don’t want to admit i’m not still as close to it.
my heart used to plummet at these losses but now i accept them as i have accepted so many others. missing something is different than wishing it were still so. i’d always previously assumed that when i missed something that was because i wished that it still was. the missing is like the smell, it lasts for a while but it fades. when the smell isn’t there it occasionally passes through my mind or i brush up against something that smells like it.
the things that matter are the things that don’t fade. the eye contact, the love, the touching, the kissing and the overall action that happens.
the person changed, i expected that, the thing i didn’t expect was the feelings changing. i breathe in and i experience the things i miss. but i’m not looking to go back to those things, i’m here and so are you. i love that. where next?
The seeds were first planted a long time ago but sowing seeds before a long cold is often foolish. Luckily a tarp was laid and the seeds were deep enough that the earth’s loving warmth kept them insulated through heavy storms and cold snaps. When the spring came the tarp was forgotten and the seeds received no life giving water and it was looking bleak. Flowers that were meant to be so beautiful stuck inside tiny little shells. Then finally the fear was lifted, the gardener woke up and gave the seeds a fighting chance.
Ordinary behavior ceased and new trends started to awaken. Responsibility, love and introspection blossomed suddenly in a flower bed that had run dry. That lackluster watering can was picked up, filled with joy and belief and poured all over the mucky soil. The flowers started to grow, pansies, roses, carnations, tulips and lilies. Bursting colors out of deep dark brown soil, a respectful salute to the world that is and a firm acknowledgment of the world that could be. This garden was small but it was beautiful and it had a fighting chance to become a major botanical spectacle. All it needed was to be given that chance.
i look around my room and see her hairs strewn about. near the piano, near my bag, near the bed.
my eyes lower. not because they want to but because that’s where my head is going. cup, cup, cup, can, can, can. fresh air is comforting and rare but it does come.
i don’t know how to make this work when i’m speaking my words and you’re speaking your’s. but i’m willing to take that step and make this move. i’m so far from what i know but so are you. two people from so far who are so near and so alike must mean something, and i hope it means what i think it does.
i’m glad we moved past the stage of believing, but this is stage two and it’s twice as hard. i feel it already. the slow and cyclic movements of the dancers are entrancing but after the dance is over, is the show worth staying?
i guess we’ll see.