We. We feast upon fantasies and daydreams. We shut our armours to collect wisps of thoughts and let them swirl in incessant circles within. We like to jump from one square of fantasy to another as they swim in white skies,ultimately falling through silences of space,and desiring to keep falling,death at an inch. Never closer,never further.We want to catch it in our cold fingers when it is so fluttery,so impossibly desirable yet seemingly unattainable. We are those 3 minutes of life when your heart stops but your body works,waiting for the end. We are folded upon ourselves,so scared of the magic dissipating in a single movement. We are resistant to reality. Or is it Me?
Let me tell you this,I've always wanted to be different. I manipulate my words into elaborate sips of wine than plain old gulps of water. I shadow every place the sunshine falls,just to tell myself I tried. It is the struggle of a teenager reversed. Shimmering red when the colour is a blinding white. But the fear? The insane demonity does not scare me as much as the blandness of a parched land. I am me,but in the discovering of the bigger picture,I forget the parameters of me and drown in clouds of unknowning of the rights and wrongs,the silence and the storms,the emotions and the turbulence. Sometimes it is a spiral of a wall closing down on me,the necessity to breathe and not finding enough breath. Do I have so much of what I want to be that I'm just trying to condense it into reality instead of living my reality?
Let me tell you this,I've always wanted to be different. I manipulate my words into elaborate sips of wine than plain old gulps of water. I shadow every place the sunshine falls,just to tell myself I tried. It is the struggle of a teenager reversed. Shimmering red when the colour is a blinding white. But the fear? The insane demonity does not scare me as much as the blandness of a parched land. I am me,but in the discovering of the bigger picture,I forget the parameters of me and drown in clouds of unknowning of the rights and wrongs,the silence and the storms,the emotions and the turbulence. Sometimes it is a spiral of a wall closing down on me,the necessity to breathe and not finding enough breath. Do I have so much of what I want to be that I'm just trying to condense it into reality instead of living my reality?
