This is a statement of thought
Personal, refined, transformed progressionism.
Lick it. Stick it. Mail it away.
Leave no return address so that it stays there.
It’s not important where it went, it just matters that it’s no longer with you
It just matters that you sent it away–
Sent something close to you away to someone else.
Nothing gold can stay.
Who said that?
Do you like this style?
Do I care if you do?
God, am I whining?
Has it come to this?
Are you there? Hello?
That’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately
–is it You or just space or both or neither…I wish I could know.
– I fear feeling the answer-
I fear that I’ll find the answer that I don’t want to hear
-That after this comes nothing else, and after that is nothing.
That everything is simply cyclical and lacks soul–that we might as well be antelope eating grass so that when we’re eaten we’ll become the grass and–you know how it goes, we’ve all seen the movie.
To imagine, this fate, or rather lack thereof
–You have no say
–You have no say
I can’t know the answer.
These are things that need to be said
These are things trapped inside my head
And as I think them, I write them, and as I write them I think of more to write and so the cycle continues endlessly until I reach the end, or a conclusion, or question.
Is it cliché to write this way?
Has it been done before?
Sure but is it poetry?
I don’t know–why ask? Why do you have to ask? Why not feel? Feel the words,
Enjoy it. There are so few things left that are purely for us.
Sometimes I wish that I could write something that would make other’s jaws drop
Other times I wonder why I care about the jaws of other’s
And then I remember that we’re all connected
And then I think as to why that is
And then I realize that I’ll never know; but I don’t need to because we are, and knowing that is enough.