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Tuesday, May 25, 2010
10:31:00 PM
a window to indigo
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Now then could I understand why was fabulousness important. Th world was a scary, sad place &adornment was th only thing igniting hope, recovering things that could've been. In Mexico, ppl wear hummingbird amulets around their necks to imply that they're searching for love. Here, ppl pretend they don't. Atleast I dont, and with all this passiveness drenching every veins in your soul, you try to look at th past to give you a thumbs up, but in retrospect, a face of god, with hot air exuding from his ears, crosses his arm &tell you he's marking you off &sending you downhill. You can't think of anything else of that matter when he punishes you w a string of nightmares that doesnt even make sense, then proceed to send you gargoyles to ruin your life &supply holy water that they spit to your face. How very charming, you higher power, very charming. Then there's this midst of insensitivity when I've forgotten about you, forgotten to say thanks or forgotten to be agitated, because deep down inside, I had hoped to have come across as a figure of memory or task in your busy schedule somehow, but I thought maybe I could give a miss cause you surely won't remember me either. Its a compromise, so tell me, you there? Sometimes I'm not even angry at anybody at all. I believe that life is beautiful music, full bloomed love &fabulous foliage, but it's also cancer, hypocrites, plastic surgery &wars. A little bit of Grey's, a little bit of House &Shrek too. I mean, what do we expect sometimes? Maybe life could've done better. But dammit, so could we. Bullseye, that is it. I hit it right there. If I reminded myself too often, I'd break, or die perhaps, like how most adults are dead inside. Maybe we dont even need therapy. Maybe we just need a love's thrill.
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