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solitude travels the vastness of the deep boundless funk
Saturday, September 25, 2004
He says that he sang today...
He says that it has been so long...
Too long...
Since he actually felt good...
Good enough to sing...
He says he sang at the top of his lungs...
With the windows down...
The warm wind in his hair...
The golden setting sun on his face...
He has come to realize that times like these are few and fleeting...
And that he must make the most of them.
In the past... he would worry if It would come back...
But now..
Now...he just waits for It...
He waits for It to wave over him...
And drag him down...
Into the deep...
Where it is cold...
And dark...
And lonely...
And where his screaming song is just a defening silence...
He says that it has been so long...
Too long...
Since he actually felt good...
Good enough to sing...
He says he sang at the top of his lungs...
With the windows down...
The warm wind in his hair...
The golden setting sun on his face...
He has come to realize that times like these are few and fleeting...
And that he must make the most of them.
In the past... he would worry if It would come back...
But now..
Now...he just waits for It...
He waits for It to wave over him...
And drag him down...
Into the deep...
Where it is cold...
And dark...
And lonely...
And where his screaming song is just a defening silence...
Thursday, April 15, 2004
He says the weight of it all...
It pins him to the ground,
At the back of his neck,
His chin in the dirt...
His sholders brused with dried blood...
His arms spralled out and crippeled...
His body...this dust covered shadow struggeling to get up...
Slowly... this increasing pressure
Cutting off the circulation
Cutting off the breath
Cutting off the thought
It holds him there and It holds him there waiting for the next move...
And ironically there is only one move left to be made...
But unfortunetley he has no clue that this move even exists,
Let alone how to use or even recognize that this could even be an option...
You see... for him... Hope is this stranger he has yet to meet...
As the suffocating dust spirals around him....
It pins him to the ground,
At the back of his neck,
His chin in the dirt...
His sholders brused with dried blood...
His arms spralled out and crippeled...
His body...this dust covered shadow struggeling to get up...
Slowly... this increasing pressure
Cutting off the circulation
Cutting off the breath
Cutting off the thought
It holds him there and It holds him there waiting for the next move...
And ironically there is only one move left to be made...
But unfortunetley he has no clue that this move even exists,
Let alone how to use or even recognize that this could even be an option...
You see... for him... Hope is this stranger he has yet to meet...
As the suffocating dust spirals around him....
Friday, April 02, 2004
He tries to give up all the things that make him 'him',
In an effort to find the cause
Of this burden,
This weight,
This anchor that holds him and keeps him still.
He feels that in giving up these things,
He is getting closer to the cause...closer to the source...
But he really is just taking away all the parts of the whole...
Strangely he feels that this purge has a hidden witness...
And there is a slight possibility that it is The Misery...
And if this is true and The Misey has returned...
Then...
Then he will have to realize that there is
No distance he can travel,
No speed at which he can race,
No shadow dark enough or deep enough to crouch within
Where It will not find him.
And this time It looks like It might be here to stay...
Already It is having him do things...
If this is true he needs to make a choice to change this course of his life
He can lie still and allow it to rule over the rest of his days
Or he can get up and fight for his place ...
But sadly...
Unknown to him...
He does not have the stamina nor the strategy nor the strength for victory...
...and defeat...
Defeat is just around the corner...
And the one thing that can save him is he one thing he will never do...
He will never call for help.
In an effort to find the cause
Of this burden,
This weight,
This anchor that holds him and keeps him still.
He feels that in giving up these things,
He is getting closer to the cause...closer to the source...
But he really is just taking away all the parts of the whole...
Strangely he feels that this purge has a hidden witness...
And there is a slight possibility that it is The Misery...
And if this is true and The Misey has returned...
Then...
Then he will have to realize that there is
No distance he can travel,
No speed at which he can race,
No shadow dark enough or deep enough to crouch within
Where It will not find him.
And this time It looks like It might be here to stay...
Already It is having him do things...
If this is true he needs to make a choice to change this course of his life
He can lie still and allow it to rule over the rest of his days
Or he can get up and fight for his place ...
But sadly...
Unknown to him...
He does not have the stamina nor the strategy nor the strength for victory...
...and defeat...
Defeat is just around the corner...
And the one thing that can save him is he one thing he will never do...
He will never call for help.
Monday, March 15, 2004
He once thought that all are like trout going against the current,
Arriving at whatever the destination that they desire...
But he soon realizes that he is not a trout but a leaf,
Held at the mercy and the will of the raging unceasing river...
But the leaf holds on to the one and only thing that keeps him from drowning,
Every river eventually leads to the great deep sea...
Arriving at whatever the destination that they desire...
But he soon realizes that he is not a trout but a leaf,
Held at the mercy and the will of the raging unceasing river...
But the leaf holds on to the one and only thing that keeps him from drowning,
Every river eventually leads to the great deep sea...
Monday, March 01, 2004
He says his heart is an empty funnel...
Allowing everything good in his life to just pass through...
Unable to be able to find the one good thing to block this continuous current...
He says he patiently sits and he waits for the one good thing
To come along and dam this canal...
And allow the good to fill up and overflow once again...
But he realizes that just sitting will not make it happen...
And yet he still sits...
and...
still sits and still...
he waits...
Allowing everything good in his life to just pass through...
Unable to be able to find the one good thing to block this continuous current...
He says he patiently sits and he waits for the one good thing
To come along and dam this canal...
And allow the good to fill up and overflow once again...
But he realizes that just sitting will not make it happen...
And yet he still sits...
and...
still sits and still...
he waits...
Saturday, February 14, 2004
But falling in Love...
Falling in Love is something he cannot do.
For he fears he would realize that things could have been
This great, this awesome, this wonderful, this whole time, all these years...
Falling is Love is something he will not do.
Because, certainly, at this point, that suddenly now...
That someone would be able hear...
That someone would be willing to listen...
The shear fact that someone could ever even love him...
The regret would be unbearable.
It... it would break his heart...
And that is something he could not do...
So he lives on...
And he waits...
And he waits waits for the courage to fall.
Falling in Love is something he cannot do.
For he fears he would realize that things could have been
This great, this awesome, this wonderful, this whole time, all these years...
Falling is Love is something he will not do.
Because, certainly, at this point, that suddenly now...
That someone would be able hear...
That someone would be willing to listen...
The shear fact that someone could ever even love him...
The regret would be unbearable.
It... it would break his heart...
And that is something he could not do...
So he lives on...
And he waits...
And he waits waits for the courage to fall.
Sunday, February 01, 2004
He once said that he feels like everyone took the express
And that he took the local...
And truth be known, not only did he take the local...
It was the local going back from where he was coming from...
And surely if he was told this it is doubtful that he would even care...
For it is only when his eyes are closed is he ever moving anyway...
And that he took the local...
And truth be known, not only did he take the local...
It was the local going back from where he was coming from...
And surely if he was told this it is doubtful that he would even care...
For it is only when his eyes are closed is he ever moving anyway...
Thursday, January 15, 2004
Sometimes he feels that he is shoveling the heavy wet snow
the more he pushes, the more he puts on the shovel
and unless he unloads the snow, the heavier it gets
and suddenly it gets to a point where he cannot move it
or budge it
or abandon it
and then
and then he is stuck
and now his only hope is to wait for spring
when the cold winter snow will melt from the warm spring sun...
and it is then he can move... move once again
the more he pushes, the more he puts on the shovel
and unless he unloads the snow, the heavier it gets
and suddenly it gets to a point where he cannot move it
or budge it
or abandon it
and then
and then he is stuck
and now his only hope is to wait for spring
when the cold winter snow will melt from the warm spring sun...
and it is then he can move... move once again
Thursday, January 01, 2004
And if Love is the answer, then he is doomed
For he will hold on to it so tightly, so strongly
That he will suffocate it
And it will be only then, with a hollow heart and a heavy brow,
He will allow the transfer and welcome in The Misery.
For he will hold on to it so tightly, so strongly
That he will suffocate it
And it will be only then, with a hollow heart and a heavy brow,
He will allow the transfer and welcome in The Misery.
