Three Days

Well this whole world, yeah it flips and twists and kicks, and you've got three days, three long days till you'll see straight again. Then flip it up again and watch your vision blur as you stumble out the door, and if you need me I'll be on a plane to Europe. And if I need you you'll be sitting on the floor, wondering where it all went down, but you'll never get up, no, you'll never stand up and run to that place. When discomfort is comfortable, you'll never flip your world, but it only takes three days, just three long days till your vision clears and you see again. If I could I'd show you, save you, take you, like I just saved myself.

Try again

Your life's work: Redo it.

Reshaping

The words in my head, even those form to you. Scrambling, they reshape and reform, over and over. As if my brain can be lastingly molded to you. As if I can fit you in my head. as if that will fit you in my heart. As if that means I'll be in yours.

Pick your Victory

Feel; Don't feel,
The war unhinges,
Victory is fleeting.

Move.

Stale beer and empty coffee cups;
We were told there is more than this.
Life to create, homes to build, a future.
We are always working towards something. In the future, we are sure, we will reach this goal, (We have long forgotten what it is, but still we struggle)
And so we sit in stagnance. Here we wait for the epiphany. The moment that all the things we've been told, been taught, all the things we've read, the great movies of romance and adventure, make sense.
We do what we've been told; we study, we read, we work; stagnant. Stale. Empty.


All there is is movement.
The ballet of the cars as they come together and part again,
That parallel ourselves, as we come together and fall apart again.

The slow roll of the waves across the ocean before they collide with the Earth, and reverse,
To collide with the other end, and come back again.

And here we sit, in the still limbo of waiting, always waiting, for something to set us in motion, something to tell you: This is your great adventure. Your time of lingering in coffee shops, waiting for life to catch up and sweep you away is over.

This is that something. This is that moment. The great wave of life won't suddenly and magically sweep you away, but compel you to chase it. Hunt. Search. Move.

Hollywood invented this.

What is love?
A status?
A feeling?
An action?

Hollywood induced mayhem.

In all the world, all that truly exists is that yellow tree.
Just one tree in all of existence.
Your existence is questionable,
Mine futile,
All I know that I love is that tree.