I’m Gonna Forget

I don’t know if things are good or bad.  Probably bad, I don’t know.  I don’t know where things end up, so maybe I am the weakest point, maybe I was the weakest point all along.  I need to change the design a little bit.  The old me didn’t have seals in it.  And that wad of grease I just pulled out of that place probably didn’t being there.  Moments are an inferior message.  Context is key. 

It really doesn’t matter. 

I’m just trying to hear everything. When I hear good things, I put them in context.  What’s the next thing?  Am I missing a bolt?  Was I constructed improperly?  Does it matter?  Interesting. 

Silence. 

I wonder how far I should go with it?  Should I take it all apart?  At what point do you stop fucking with it and move onto something else? 

Silence.

Does what I say have a bad connotation?  Then take it back.  Use it how you need it.  Do what you have to do.  Breathe in the fumes of whatever is around you and either swim or choke.  It’s all up to you.  Maybe everything will spark together and start on fire, or maybe it will just eventually break and you’ll be searching for a short in the electricity. 

There’s nothing wrong with learning experiences, until people step over the line and unnecessarily hurt others.  Human nature is adaptable.  Sometimes.  If you don’t move on, the darkness overcomes.  Fuck the darkness.  Using the cover of darkness is sometimes just an excuse, but it’s beautiful.  No one expects you.  Others can’t see what’s beyond the glare of the streetlights.  But you’re still lurking in the shadows.   What are you doing?

The little shit doesn’t matter.  Sometimes there’s a pile of socks, and then it becomes a metaphor for your messy life.  Sometimes socks are just socks.  Move on to a different corner of the room.

These things that I’m writing have no coherence whatsoever.  You’re welcome.  Sometimes life is just bullshit and nobody cares.  Sometimes life smiles on you for a minute – how can you tell the difference between a smile and a frown?  The people who care are the ones who need to stay in our lives.  The ones who accept us for who we are – fucking broken shards and all.

We have to wander off sometimes, just to find out where we are.  And sometimes, when we come back to home base, we forget where we lived in the first place.  Lost.  Out of place.  A player on a stage where the light shines on us, but we forgot all the lines.  Frozen in place, without an exit sign or a pulse.  Feel your carotid – see if you’re still alive.  Feel the pulse.  Count the beats.  Ask yourself if you’re still alive. 

If you are, live out loud.  Sing.  Play.  Be.  Write.  Think.  Don’t think.  Just DO.