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It’s all just so so so much. God I wish… well, we wish for so many things, don’t we? Such toys of fortune are we, spinning through the skies at a rate both infinitely sluggish and yet faster than we tiny mortals can handle. I wish I had you though. I wish I could give you something better than me, something better than this shipwreck at the floor of the sea. Oh let me go on wishing, find a penny at the bottom of the well, perhaps visit the sea, toss it off the cliff as the song swells. Stealing wishes from one side, use them on the other, what is it except for one person selling another? Do we really have something, at the end of the day? What are we doing? Do we drive everyone away? Should we really consider the implications of our actions, or do they have none because of the equal and opposite reactions? Maybe we hope for the best, but the best ain’t having none. Maybe we’re still fighting, hurling ourselves into the fray, unaware that the battle’s already won. Maybe we delude ourselves into thinking that as long as we haven’t beaten our enemies, the war isn’t over. Maybe they sit there laughing at our folly, watching us wear ourselves out fruitlessly attacking nothing. They’ve won, because we will spend ourselves attacking their decoys for the rest of eternity. They already went back to fairyland, back to the place where they live in peace and harmony and laugh at our hopeless raging. Oh we are the forsaken. Who abandoned us, we don’t know, but good Lord we miss them. I miss you. Come back for me please my darling. I know that I’m bitter once you lick off the shiny candy coating, but I do so want you to enjoy it. I really hope you do, because if you don’t, you’ll have licked off all my candy coating and I’ll be naked and bitter and someone else will have to like that and I’m not sure I trust someone who does. Perhaps trust is the issue. Perhaps we should trust ourselves. How can we when all we see is lollipops and giant tangerines? Perhaps they aren’t there, but perhaps we are better off because we see them. Am I high? Maybe I should be. I think I’m not. Not high on anything fun at any rate. Perhaps I’m high on grief. Or life. Is life grief? Peony was happy because she thought so. Flowers are such joyous things that we suck the life right out of. We cut them because they’re pretty and they die because we cut them. They die even if we don’t cut them, but so do we and we’re pretty upset when someone cuts us. Is that right? Are people truly that different than flowers? Then why did you name your daughter Rose or Lily? Should they be cut off while they’re still pretty just because their lives are temporary anyway? I don’t know. I think I don’t really know anything. I think knowledge is something that flits through you and it leaves dregs like tea but the part you really want, the yummy water with the anti-oxidants, I think you piss it away. I think all we know is the crap part of what we want to know. Maybe I fail. Maybe I don’t know what it is to succeed. But how can I know what it is to fail when I don’t know what it is to succeed? Maybe it already passed through my mind, like the tea. Maybe I need to stay off the shrooms which I haven’t taken. Maybe I really need to talk to someone. Someone I love. Someone who doesn’t think I’m bloody crazy. Which clearly rules out me and anyone who read this. Oh well.

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3 Comments

  1. Some good points, especially about daughters named after flowers.

    I think it’s time for you to read “Waiting for Godot.”

  2. I smell poetry slam…lol. Seriously, it’s good.

  3. Good job at the Slam 🙂


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