Friday, April 11, 2008

looking, still.

i wrote this in june of 2005. it's not something that stood out to me; something i'd even remembered until reading it just now. i've spent the majority of the evening re-reading my history recorded so casually. blogs. scary, horrible, amazing things. everything i've experienced in the last 7 years, recorded, published for everyone to see. to judge. to remember. the pains and pleasures. for so long. everything. mostly it boils down to 3 years, though. sometimes it seems to all boil down to those three years. anyhow...

LOOKING

long train rides. tracks disappearing under the weight of our travels. under actions and inactions. becoming more of a serpentine trail. a serpentine tale. shattering from behind us. long train rides. that, when i look back on, i don't remember being so long. so bad. overpaying for cheap struggles, like bad wine. bottles collecting dust, waiting to be drunk. to get us drunk. rattling on the tracks. tracks of tears. those tears which never really belonged to us. tunnels leaving us momentarily blind. tunnel vision.

playing cards to pass the time, as time passes by, lost amongst the flash of scenery out those tiny windows. all glare from the bright white lights, which we would use to keep score, if scores were worth being kept. but somehow, someone's always keeping score. penciled additions and subtractions meant to define a segment in our lives. something someone shouldn't have said or done. the cards we shouldn't have laid down. the stops we missed during long overdue sleep. just waiting to wake up somewhere new.

the terrain has changed, but the train just stays the same. and when i look back, it never feels long. it never feels bad. just overpriced.

barrelling down these tracks to somewhere. 100 miles per hour. if i could make you happy.

long plane rides. looking out over the wing. wishing. thinking. looking.

3 comments:

fandango said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
fandango said...

you will never improve. you will never take a single step in any true direction. you will never learn anything more than what you should already have known. you will only ever grow comfortable with your mistakes. you will fuck up, and then you will fuck up again. you will never see your future, and you'll never remember your past. the present will happen without your permission. you'll fuck up, and then you won't remember it, and then you'll fuck up again, and never see it coming. every second of your life will tick towards the balancing of the scales. your death as a cold black counterweight. everything is inevitable equilibrium. you will comfort yourself against the vacuum with friends lovers and family, and still your eyes will bulge as you are strangled by negative space. you will die no richer and no wiser than when you were first ejected, wretched and weeping, from your mother's womb. and you will die alone, as you always were.

as we always were.

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