The pain pushes out a pulsating beat, incapacitating me. I sit, getting lost in this hopeless little screen. Nothing to do but procrastination, delaying, with no real reason for it. My mind turns to a default image of you. I can't explain it. I write endless phrases, a metaphysical conceit I'm not even sure of myself. Unfullfilled dreams, the wish of carpe diem but there's a chain of trepidation around my ankle. I'm accustomed to a different love, a different meaning, joining, dialogue. I'm just another tourist in your bed, looking at the view. I suppose I write to try and decipher it. Telling you in phrases thick with distractions and song, ideas I understand only fractions of. I want to talk to you. But the words find no escape, the pathway's broken from mind to lip, spirit to finger tip. I'm in tumultuous indecision, a feeling of inadequacy. If I push too much my inner darkness upon you, searching for a deeper connection, I'm afraid I'll get a response of distance growing. I'm left longing for your touch but I'm too afraid to touch you. An etched image of perfection and simplicity, and here I lie, broken. Ambiguous desires I read from your eyes, a disdainful demureness. Half of me wants you to find these stupid words. The adept side tells me to hide them away. A skill I've learnt well. Words of impulse find scorn and regret when change is innevitable.
I feel like somewhere along my life there was a shift. Suddenly nothing was for fun any more, it was all necessary. Suddenly I'm bothering with what others think, afraid to link any connotations I deem negative to my being. Why do I care what people I've never met, who'll forget they ever saw me, think of me; this obscure stranger in their peripherals. It's a warped sense of mind and place, seeing the space around me in my mind's made up ways. So I stray away from everyone, isolating myself unwittingly, turning them against me. Self fulfilling prophecies, I succeed in creating this reality. I need to break free from my mind's mentalities, with which negativity has propelled me. So I've started a new sport. I call it neighborhood night dancing. Donning headphones and heading out alone to the empty streets as the city sleeps, and moving to the beat. Letting it compel me towards a freedom long gone missing. Letting go is an art. Complete release is a tough ...
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