I love this, most likely because it’s slipping out of my hands, faster and faster. Even if there’s no chance to maintain here and now, I only hope that something else will find its way into my lap as well. And if I practice the positivity I preach, it should :)
I’m considering making a “Want Jar” wherein I must place a shiny sixpence every time I say “I want.” I think it comes up less than most but it’s still the ugliest thing. I guess a nickel could work in there too.
Your blinds will fall and usher away
All the pretty, distinct things we saw today.
And those ephemeral images tucked within
Run steady through a sieve of ordinary sin,
A labyrinth of hopes both held and loosed.
These memories aren’t created, only reused.
Yet that still doesn’t mean what we saw today
Was only pretense, or some child’s play.
Out there was once right here
But now it’s falling back and we’re quite near
To all those places you swore you’d never been.
Tell me whatever you can; it’s alright, you’re forgiven.
Just this time promise to shut up and listen
To the roaring sound of my submission.
I’m yet too ripe for this scene of regret,
Too static to pry myself from the net.
It’s disheartening to find that the majority of my generation is obsessed with spontaneity, quirkiness, and following unnatural dreams. Those things are great, but most seem to act like that’s the end-all-be-all right answer. And often it’s the same people who champion “tearing down Society’s oppressive morals and customs” that simultaneously churn out these new believers whom are never satisfied and don’t like thinking. Balance: it’s relevant.
It’s astounding where I find myself sometimes, especially considering my inability. It’s a combination of ‘small world,’ ‘no such thing as coincidences,’ and divine intervention. Whoever is pulling the strings…while crazy…is probably a good guy over all.
I feel like I ask more of my life than ever right now, but simultaneously, I’d be just alright if it all fell through. Some things might not be solid yet as long as there’s the possibility of a foothold here and there, I can do the dance. Here is good, especially for now.
I have the most specific, peculiar dog-speak and I usually do well to keep it under wraps. But if you catch me talking to my dogs, I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t want to see my house much more. It’s between babying and foreign influence’s manipulations. They’re both “weiner dags,” “geed dags,” and “geed booty dags.” Watch out for that, and it’s all geed.