"You're a star." -The husk, unused shell, shadows cast forth. The night sky without heirloom, or the wedding dress without scales, or the brow without a furrow, crease; what's the use? To some, sand in a clay jar, alone in the desert, the sky a mirror of the ground, equal and opposite, giving nothing. It's a money changer that only takes, a king with high taxes; the world, being a cage, trapping you inside of it and never letting go. This gravity, fingers around my ankles, the endless blue sky, the window in a prison showing only a little of what really is. The ground might as well be cracked concrete, caked with the skin of every human being who has tread it's surface looking up at night and almost falling into the infinity of darkness. It's nights like that that take away all hope in humanity. Dreamers; you gotta join the cause, they're a dying race and all.
We're all getting caught up in the objectivity of religion, of drugs, of commitment, of sensualism. We're forgetting the infinity of our lives, the slowly passing time, and it's endlessness. We forgot our snakes and our tongues, we forgot the way the light reflected off of each others eyes. Creases in the hands, a texture like a pillow case made with Jersey threads. It's lost, maybe that's not so bad. Life sometimes is like a firefly, off and on all the time, lighting up in different places. You can't see where it goes when it's gone, but once it's back you know where you are. Shadows still play off the light- what's it matter? A second, a minute, wasted to ruin everything?
"Do things happen for a reason?" -No, they don't. "Then what's the point?" -Choice. It makes no difference, or all of it, whatever. Ashes to ashes and all.
Sleep well.
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