Words don't matter at that point, when everything is just sands through a sifter; searching for some sort of gold in between the rubbish. No one tries and no one cares because the idea of power overwhelms them- they need to transcend and force it until their ego is convulsing on the floor, choking on its own vomit. Somebody got hurt in the process and everyone walked around, looks on their faces matching up with the way the stars are set up. (But they moved, there, don't you get it? Instilled their own meaning in order to create some circular logic. It's methods of control and all
all we care about is) power, running down a persons spine- it makes them want it more and more because it's just like everything else humans touch. We were spongey and no one cared. You were crying and no one cared. You were secretly doubting yourself, surrounding yourself with the ideals you thought you knew and the ideas you thought were correct and an arrogance that rang further than the sky- and no one cared, because we don't care, not when we can, never when we can. Humans and skillets in the ground (both trying to make their own worth and being used by people every day to their own ends.)
You don't seem to get the relationship that's surrounded us like a wall of air. There's nothing left but bone and you don't want to keep digging because of the taste of marrow. There's no use trying to build everything back up because it's blown away-where there's nothing left.
We satisfy ourselves like that. Bitting our tails; are we nothing but felines on catnip? Or dogs, high off of their own obedience and misunderstanding of the world? No matter how hard you try to take a step you can't make it fast, and you end up in the same place.
Lying in your bed unconscious, stuck in your own dreams that you like to think is reality.
Each awakening a death.
(I'm trying to tell you that I miss you and that my thoughts are in the oven and boiling over.)
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