Sorry to Flowers

Things have slowly touched my mind. They turned it around, didn't they? When was the last time I had a conversation with myself, or looked at just a piece of me? My mouth with words; always silent because they're affixed to my mind and the tracks that run down my spine. I'd look outside and the wind was green and the plants were purple and I felt as though the sun would set soon, die out in a carriage of bursting flames that just spread their arms over the sky and engulfed us all slowly and bitterly with some sort of desire for both revenge and love. Jealousy, and the world was filled with it all, we were up to our necks in it. I felt like an image on the screen; I'd want to bring you flowers and grab your hand and show you a dream in my head- walk across the water to an island no one but me has seen. It'd be perfect there and the waves would wash away our footprints in the sand. Wouldn't it?

It was just that it was reminding me of so many things that had passed before my eyes. Nothing was like the screen and all those plays that wrecked out before everyone else; it was boring and lame and filled with nonsense and intense detail that no one would want to see, but it slipped passed my nose so quickly and my eyes pick up all the pieces faster than I thought my mind could comprehend. I saw it in flashes, instances; it all went by so slowly, but that was my life and it meant everything to me. All the nonsense and all the lameness and desire for everything to be strewn before my fingertips- it was all that I had ever been and that little, that nothingness, really, was the world to me. I grabbed at it with my fingers and watched it melt through me. It wasn't sad, it was there, just not now, but then. Everything was then. Now is then, even, and I can't stop now from becoming then because every time I try to keep now now, my efforts follow now into the then.

The truth is that I'm stuck, hung up, wanting to experience it all again for the first time without forgetting that I've already done that.

You brought that to me- thank you, and you as well, all of you. You're like the Bodhisattva's of my life, beautiful in your idiocy and delightful in your intelligence . You show me who I am and take away the pieces of who I used to be and sculpt my around your fingers until I'm tangled up inside of who you are too, and we're all stuck together from now until forever whether we like it or not. It's not that it ever ends, it just levels out.

I fell down to the ground. The sky looks so beautiful in the morning. I wanted to call you dear, and call the rest of your my brothers and sisters, to look at you and live with you and drink and smoke and cry and love with you. My tongue kept flickering but no matter what came from it, it all didn't matter, it was all so much less than what I wanted, but I smiled anyway, if not for finding the words, then for not being content with the words that I found.

So I smiled.

I loved you all, and I love you still.