I wish I could tell you it wasn’t all for nothing.
One day, you’ll no longer have a care in the world and realise that stressing was nothing more than wasted energy.
One day there will be a time with no one left who remembers a life without technology.
What if each drop of rain wasn’t a drop of rain
What if they were tears
Would you even notice
Did I die inside?
If you’ve had the same door open, you’ll know what it means, what that feeling is.
The dystopian indifference, empathy that was never there for you, grief.
You changed and there was no getting over it, not really.
You might wear a new mask, one with a smile, you may even try to be there for people, to help, save them from themselves and their, our shallow existence, yet you know it doesn’t matter because you died inside a long time ago.
Well, shit. I didn’t see that one coming.
If she leans any further forwards across the table her head will be in his lap
And they say public romance is dead.
Most people say a bird
To fly, be free, to go anywhere would be their dream
Of course they can do this already as a human, they just don’t
People like the idea of freedom more than the reality
Secretly we like our gilded cages
Our routine life
Well, everyone except Vegans, they’d probably want to come back as a plant or some shit.
The need for consistency is what keep you always wanting more and never getting it.
When did the American Dream cross the sea?
Everywhere you look you can see it
The idea that anything is possible
That living outside the rules of reality is viable
It can’t be only me who sees it, can it?
Have I fallen so far in the this cynical abyss that everything I now see is a twisted version of itself?
Reading back over the years and everything written to me is how life is, yet to everyone else it’s nothing more than bitter words from a broken heart of long ago that never truly stopped bleeding.
Surely other people can see the hypocritical nature of humans?
Those who lived that drug fuelled life and are now reformed and holier-than-thou and championing the spiritual life of benevolence and magnanimity, ugh such bulllshit, it’s all bullshit.
Argh, this frustration, what, where does it come from and why won’t it leave me.
Which door is closed, what is behind it, how can it be found?
It is that one in the corner of my eye, the one I look to see and yet each time it’s never there. Is it madness, or something else?
At this point in my life I reckon the Mobius Chair would be rather useful, alas that is but fiction and time marches on until we are merely shadows & dust, just like Proximo said.
“Shadows & dust Maximus. Shadows & dust…..”
Once we were young, full of hope & dreams for the future
Protected from the world, happily free
Then we grew up