1 *
a single star. Dancing out tonight, as all nights, but this time it'll dance without me.
distractions should never be the goal. Avoidance at an all-time high. Confessions at a lower rate... predilections still show. They're permanent, marked, bruised and scattered over me. Like droplets that make up the clouds that I've been missing (so much), every atom shows my transparency, the angles in which kindness falls, the bumps where ignorance wants to grow, the spikes in which memories go bleed to finally die - or, as most, for just a pesky little while...
forgiveness is overrated. forgiveness is overrated. forgiveness is overrated - does it click? Does it pour in such as the misery you drink when thirst comes knocking? Does it hang over like Poe's Pendulum and drive you to concede or do you tape your eyes shut, shove an icepick in the ear and bite the tongue until it falls?
all maps point to random places and with bold lines and an arrow point yell "you are here" - do I still have to move? Can I? Should I? Do I even want to exert my muscles and move myself from here to right there, next to right here?
i rather believe so. "Believe" I said. Some do it blindly (how I wish I could drown my brain in such fallacy...), others try to force it until it becomes the truth. I know I'm trying to believe and will arrive to nowhere, really. While I spin around and everything is a blur, it should work as a numbing agent. Trying to can be an escape. "trying to..."
don't dare doubt! Forgiveness is overrated.
for whenever it can't be given, it will erase the human and raise the memories - it gives you a certain boost for another level. Which is that? No way to know. Nothingness and numbness, energising confidence or plain (in)existence... an array of choices that are never really what I'm calling them right now.
as for the sky... it can do no wrong. Such as the sea - but this one can be tricky as it follows the moon and the moon continues to hide, here and there, at times bright, at times shy, at times not in the horizon.
that's the safest. Over here, on the ground floor, attempting to think of people as figments of my imagination is an exhausting task that doesn't work all the time... I need some very real people.
far and few, but real. Real as the sugary taste of that lemonade with a twist of strawberry, as the perceived sound of suggestive rhythms that bring enough excitement to keep awake, as the blurry lines I can create with the focus of a child with its favourite toy encapsulating CMYK pigments.
nothing better against nothingness than passion.
nothing better against perverted will than well-crafted invisibility.
you see. now you don't. I choose.
i chose to fight nothingness. it was the clearest choice of all as the dancing star has been there, winking and nudging, creating rhythms and polychromed shades that are just all the beauty there ever will be.
against all odds, unprovoked desire.
