Tidal
Originally Uploaded here by East-Ouest
Lately, I've been missing you again, like the soft, slow, and unstoppable movement of the tide. You remain the metaphysical rose inside my iron locker: hard, thorny, and slender with the unfathomable beauty and subtlety of crimson folds. From inside, you eat away at me, rising and falling like the seasons as you - the real you, the one of flesh and bone and blood and guts - move ever slower and slower away from me, like a figure on the horizon. I heard, in public, of you again, and your life, and the lives that entwine yours now, and I was struck dumb. I wanted to scream, and weep, and tear the flesh from my face. I wanted to fall into fits of madness as the awareness came over me. Instead, I sat.
And.
Did.
Nothing.
And instead, despite my disastisfaction, despite the empty hole that shifts and move about inside my sense of self. This yawning gaping emptiness. Instead, I will enjoy myself, I will make something where there is nothing. Eventually. Because that is all there is to do.
Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Thomas Tallis - Spem in alium for eight five-part choirs (song d/l)