For how long before you explode do you contain the implosion? How long can you go on in search of something, how long after losing yourself? How exactly do you tell someone who doesn’t listen to go to hell?
Who is precisely the one to blame when there’s no absolute origin? Where’s the escape when everyone is so right that everything is wrong… beyond recognition, when the only legacy at every level is disappointment.
And what about the first person who discovers the glitch? Does his knowledge limit him then? Or is it to set him apart, different from others, longing to be the same?
Is this the point when the observer becomes the subject? Is this the point when he realizes that the only thing that can have the slightest of effect is a tragedy… something to be lost for something else to be seen?
When you’ve lost something, you see a lot more, things you watch every day but you do not see, or observe. Is the subject himself then to become the tragedy? Or wait… wait for something to happen, certain of just one thing… that nothing could ever. How then, do you hope… when your only fear is more than often reminded to you… when having nothing seems so safe, ‘coz it can’t be taken away from you?
Am I wasting my time then, if I just lie, watching it pass by and everything and everyone in it … everyone, so beautifully indescribable that all I feel for them is envy.
Who is precisely the one to blame when there’s no absolute origin? Where’s the escape when everyone is so right that everything is wrong… beyond recognition, when the only legacy at every level is disappointment.
And what about the first person who discovers the glitch? Does his knowledge limit him then? Or is it to set him apart, different from others, longing to be the same?
Is this the point when the observer becomes the subject? Is this the point when he realizes that the only thing that can have the slightest of effect is a tragedy… something to be lost for something else to be seen?
When you’ve lost something, you see a lot more, things you watch every day but you do not see, or observe. Is the subject himself then to become the tragedy? Or wait… wait for something to happen, certain of just one thing… that nothing could ever. How then, do you hope… when your only fear is more than often reminded to you… when having nothing seems so safe, ‘coz it can’t be taken away from you?
Am I wasting my time then, if I just lie, watching it pass by and everything and everyone in it … everyone, so beautifully indescribable that all I feel for them is envy.
No comments:
Post a Comment