fog of love

that shiny, inconsiderate circular heartbreak.

a golden sparkling sign that says,

you fucked up.

you were selfish just a little too long.

use it to brush your bangs out of your eyes.

a diamond silhouetted missile into my future.

shoooooooo! BAM!

robert macnamera had it easy.

at least both sides had the upper hand.

i am the rogue state.

capable of making one mistake that can hurt millions,

with six degrees of separation.

shoooooooooooo. BAM!

this is an engagement ring that doesn't abide by the rules of engagement.

fixation.

i want to be obsessed with something, anything really. rather than filling my void with countless banter springing from a machine everyone and their minds own. i am given a forced set of emotions day to day. but only if i could get out.

i admire those artists that spend hours on one single dot or mark or shade. i admire those writers that fill thousands of notebooks with nothing but their own good hard thoughts, or mixed media retaining to nothing. either way, they have some kind of fire.

writing until a pencil breaks, collecting until a house is full of forget me nots. they have the desire to be remembered for something other than their soul. i hate to admit it, but i admire those over exercisers, over eaters, and over achievers. at least they do something well enough that it needs to be repeated. again and again. and for some, the benefits outweigh the negatives. i admire even the addicts. at least they are driven to stick with something.

maybe today i will dedicate myself to the masses, but again, i will just fall short.

adoption.

there is no more community besides the ones we are made to see.

encapsulated, abandoned, and fearful.

our whole world reeks of one, rather than many.

we are now driven together forcefully and violently,

with each thrust in...

we regret. and come,

further into one another without acknowledging what's really there.

it was probably a lot easier when there were real sparks, divisions, and tensions.

a reason to be a group of something important,

rather than a impotent click on a computer.

lazy, filthy, and paralyzed.

it's got to be here somewhere, in this eighth page of manageable trash.

searching...searching.

we've been trying for years now, i guess we will just adopt. errr. adapt.