Friday, November 03, 2006

the sound was silence. and it hurt my heart, to where i couldn't listen anymore

I feel alienated. Almost alone, not quite, because there are still some people who feel natural. They aren’t away like a distant sun. I can relate and that is good. I am poorly depressed. I don’t know about the things I do; they have been shaken and it scares me. Almost to a point of defeat. But I told myself that it’s important to have things that last a lifetime. Those things are your meaning, and I want that. So that is the case. It is just terrible when those things spit at you, or die, or they frown. They are nothing at some points and it is terrifying all in the whole.


I watched this video. And it was strange because I had no motivation. It was there and I pressed play and it was a girl and the only words that were on the screen were, “I Remember.” Which was odd, remember what? What exactly did the girl think? I had the sound turned off so it made the video feel more alien. This great solitude. Maybe it’s that damn book, engraving what it is onto my own form. Like cavemen chiseling on stone tablets. If that’s the case then a millstone is in order. To wrack a hole in the center and cease it from being the case. Turning the piece into dust and the wind will blow it away. What troubles me is the aspects around me.


There is an intuitive grasp I hold onto. It is what guides me because there is nothing else that I trust more. Not because it’s easy but because it’s right. Now I know what is around me because it tells me so. There is a feeling. The air reeks of it. I don’t want to smell it. I can taste it when I breathe in. The people are covered and they drip of the stuff. The horrible thing is I don’t know what it is. Just am aware of its existence. That’s the problem. As long as it’s like that it keeps me on the outside. And it’s not like I’m being lazy or think it’s easier this way. I don’t belong in that place. Maybe because I don’t want to. I know that it isn’t right, I know this and can’t step in. The water is too cold mother. We are flapping our wings but there is no point going higher. We don’t belong in the cold. And the cold took us. So when the spillover occurs, the rush of water will be very strange. Because I knew about the water, but when I drink and see what it truly is, it will all have happened or been cemented as either this or that.


It is selfish to think that people do not do all they are capable of. What that means is it is selfish if you discredit people for trying; thinking they aren’t. Especially because maybe you think they would rather have it easy. Or have it not be their problem. Or it’s shaking off responsibility. That isn’t fair because it’s incredibly complex and we are not you and I am a person and humans are separate at their cores and can only strive to build a bridge. They can build it but faith holds its string. It’s not religious, it is just trust.


We rode along in the red train. Passing by farms and old windmills. There was no wind so they simply stood there, like statues in the sun and still air that was cold with winter chill. We were quiet and smiled pleasantly. Our faces were red from the cold, our hands in wool gloves and the cabin-man would pass out hot chocolate which I had to always decline, the two times he came to our room. As the day passed there was an incredible silence that built up all around us. Until I had to leave my skin as a soul and glance along to make sure we were the only ones. I had to know, because if we were, there surely was a problem with us. These problems were the tip of something greater. And in the end we would both be lying on separate steamships, staring straight up at the sky in the bottom of the ocean, with our mouths open thinking about other lovers and why the world is such a terrible place for young people. There were blue fish with red spots I thought, and then the accident flashed and I was crying in her imaginary arms.

We lost our child,

And on the ocean.

We faced a wave,

A terrible wave with teeth,

that were sharp and white.

Like the hills of fuji.

Covered in a sea of fury.

The sound was loud,

Its crashing broke my ears.

And the cabin shattered,

With the sunlight dying,

The faces of all the people,

Throwing overboard with their fear.


we were a house, but it ended quickly.
there is a house, that slowly burns all its light to dust.

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