I often wonder about my future. It’s kind of like when you take your seat on an airplane: It’s the window seat. You love the window seat. But during the flight, when you attempt to look through the fogged glass beside you, you discover that it is unyielding—only allowing glimpses of scenery here and there. It’s frustrating. The future is always like that. You can only catch glimpses, colors, general layouts.
But that isn’t true at all.
You stop existing when people no longer remember you.
She’s a fair share of confusion
Boxed up allusions
Smiles and eyes and perfume
Her laugh makes you dizzy
But you’re just to busy to care
Such a horrible place
Drive until the sea laps the street
Think of the way you’d like to meet her
You’d say “how you do?”
Oh what a gentlemen, you think
Small talk runs so much deeper
Discreet as the paper and cans lining the highway
With even the slightest wind
They’ll fly away
Such an artful grace
Oh how you’ll join in the wistful race of running minds aplenty
Where strangers long for familiarity
A ripple that has crossed your mind
Shame that note you have signed
Is a glass painting robbed of color
Your heart turns your eyes
your eyes turn your mind
Your mind turns your face away
So across at the door
It seems like no more than a portal
Into the oblivion of paralytic indecision
Seriously. Nothing can make me melancholy like Explosions.
And sometimes, I just want to be sad. I don’t know. That’s really weird but it’s true. I’ve been feeling kind of down all day. I do my best writing and reflection when I am depressed anyway.
That’s probably unhealthy.
But I think we all feel this way sometimes.