Who are you, taking coffee, no sugar?
Who are you, echoing street signs?
Who are you, the stranger in the shell of a lover?
Dark curtains drawn by the passage of time.
Oh words, like rain, how sweet the sound. Well anyway, he says, I'll see you around...
Who are you, echoing street signs?
Who are you, the stranger in the shell of a lover?
Dark curtains drawn by the passage of time.
Oh words, like rain, how sweet the sound. Well anyway, he says, I'll see you around...
There are times when I feel I'm being screwed. Screwed in a kind of a way different from the past. Different from the physical manipulation, different from the yelling and from the tears. It's simple ignorance. And I wonder why I do this.
Oh there are times. There are times when I think just to abandon the whole process, that it will never work...that for some reason I am...I'm not deformed, but that there's something wrong with me. Why? Because I can fix everything else.
And then there's the factors I can't control. People. I can't predict, I can't anticipate and I can't....I can't protect myself. I trust too easily. And then I take it all on, thinking I can handle it--only to break like a match, promising myself it will never happen again. Never, ever again.
But I go back.
I can't help myself. I want it so badly, and I'm human. There's nothing I can do. I'm caught in this endless circle, voluntarily. What am I doing?
And florescent annoucements beat their wings overhead. Passengers missing: We're looking for you.
And he dreams through the noise, his weight against me, face pressed into the courderoy grooves...
And he dreams through the noise, his weight against me, face pressed into the courderoy grooves...
I think about leaving, sometimes. Giving up. Just not trying any more....maybe it's just not worth it.
So what do I do? Keep going? Keep trying...leave it behind for now and keep on with this madness?
Or do I call it out?
Maybe it means nothing...
Maybe it means nothing... but I'm afraid to move.
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I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
mar'k how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
it launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my sould where you stand,
surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
-- Walt Whitman
If that doesn't work try "The First Elegy" from The Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke, which is way too long for me to type out here.