If I had my choice of two places, here and there,
I would find a small little crevice somewhere in between with a view far removed from all possible social interaction as though no place and everywhere and I could watch over and pretend I know the lines as though vicariously living as any one of those colorful caricatures playing life on the center stage-
If I had an twinge, a pang of sentimentality that one felt lonely for other human beings-
I could entertain nature everywhere, intentionally and extensionally and in every welcome space and every shapely mood, color, flavor, scent, temperature and do nothing but interpret and create, contemplate and disperse, make myself realize what I need to actualize for others out there and expel whatever it is I'm trying to tell infinitely catch and release, spinning my tales wildly with embroidered ideas and a flowing spring of hot creative juices that buzz with light and cool electricity for good conduct and I know it can be done by experience and exertion of will-
wait, isn't that what (a) god did?
No, I am no hermit or prophet, saint or sinner, I do not hide, but openly reside on the outside looking grim-but neither do I hide that I do not derive much pleasure from other pseudo-peopled predicaments and superficial social situations, too long is too much and talk is too small to hear any value worth that heartbeat just wasted on wispy vapid vocalizations, erstwhile, some stimulants are to be stoked and ignited, brightened into clarity by enhancing images of what you wish to be, look closely, don't tell, pleasure is an opportunity for silence and relishing the company of someone who understands your thoughts, only like you...
Reading you like a fairytale book, the ending amoral conjecture to put you back in your proper place, perplexed and planted, rooted in dis-content, too close to others for their own myopia, recycled carbon canary with nary a note to echo a name, such a short trip, there's no time for shame.
No comments:
Post a Comment