1. boring through this moment of solitude, a dull pain spreads from the base of my thoughts to the twinge of my temples - where my thoughts and reality converge anticipation seeps from every pore. . .ready, waiting, expecting a sudden jolt that will plant my feet right back on the ground.i write to quantify the way i feel - but my focus and attention comes in waves, some lonely barely breaking the seamless surface, others churning my very being from the inside out.
2. early morning, rousing in place of the hour i usually resign, endless lines fly past as i pull into the terminal. middle of nowhere, yet teaming with life. isn't this how it is supposed to be? awakening with the sun instead of consorting with the moon night after nigt? patterns intended to align with the earth and each nature broken, with only these rare exceptions to the rule - maybe we would sleep a little more soundly if we all stopped grating against our nature.
3. patterns emerge out of colors and words.
4. every step the ends to a means, trying to get a few inches closer to some unknown end. strangers pass by, catching my eye only at the last instant tha tmy mind clears form this waking daydream. ready to move forward to a new tomorrow, but the only thing propelling me is my hope that one day each tiny effort will amont to some manner of progress. hiding behind an insignificant and zipped hooded jacket, nothing to differentiate between myself and my neighbor, while my headphones serve as my only barrier to preserve my subtle anonymity. why am i not able to simply lose myself in the crowd? why do i feel the need to fade away, yet still find myself analyzing and identifying myself in relationship to those around me? this bleak little pad is the only one who hears my voice, my pleas, my cries to be somebody, to matter, to just be noticed. i want to be great, but ill settle for average, as long as one day i am able to reach even that point.
5. yearning for my own independence, i shrug off anything that could interfere. . .to my benefit or to my detriment. images and words seep from my mind. . .releasing themselves only when they or i should be contained.
6. let's start again. clean page, fresh words. a new attitude on which to base a beginning. let's rewind to a time when my misgivings were not my sole motivation. cute words, anticipation and worry shocking my dulled sense back into focus. fingertrips trying to grip something just a bit more tangible before they fall slack with all the associated hope. falling to the floor. some old habits repeat and one broken heart has led to this perpetual self-inflicted rise and inevitable letdown. i pull you into my arms and push you away the moment you cross the line i invisibly drew between our words and their actuation. concepts sear this indistinguisable barrier that only experience can define.
7. the current flows rock to rock, ledge to bottom again and again. the noise cancels out any doubt as the path you are cleaering deafens my own thoughts. lost in the feat and the simplicity of that rush.
8. a way to view the world, or a modern day misdirection.
smile. flash. hold on. flash. just once more. flash. force a passable smile and hope you blend further from the foreground than the lens can allow. fake the pretense of it all and flip the roles. impose the distance, use the lens instead of your eye. why articulate an experience when you cn share it secondhand through such an unbiased intermediary?
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