Dangling
There is only one way and that way is so out of everyone's mind.
Three days from now on the 36th. Again, no matter how much has passed, the difference will still forever be the same. The same. The same. This is what we stopped everything for. The inevitable the same.
Amsterdam Avenue was the quiet Monday. No - the names of days don't matter in the context of larger things. People are all listeners - save the ones who lose the ability to listen to the words of other people. Many people it turns out, are exactly like that. We accumulated everything so one day, when our bones give way and we lose our existential coherence, we can have grounds to ask one last thing before it all burns to dust:
Why?
All this talk but yet to what avail? None. So many things you say, do, feel, hear and never still enough is it. All these lives that pass before our eyes and still, never enough is it. I said, did, felt, heard. Fantastic. Now what? Exactly. Whenever it is at the very recesses of my mind, it resurfaces to remind me that the difference will still forever be the same.
On the street. The rain. And then the closed stall so I had nothing to show. Only little bits of weathered water in my hair. And the table in the middle of all other tables. That's when it told me - the difference will always be a difference.
Three days from now on the 36th. Again, no matter how much has passed, the difference will still forever be the same. The same. The same. This is what we stopped everything for. The inevitable the same.
Amsterdam Avenue was the quiet Monday. No - the names of days don't matter in the context of larger things. People are all listeners - save the ones who lose the ability to listen to the words of other people. Many people it turns out, are exactly like that. We accumulated everything so one day, when our bones give way and we lose our existential coherence, we can have grounds to ask one last thing before it all burns to dust:
Why?
All this talk but yet to what avail? None. So many things you say, do, feel, hear and never still enough is it. All these lives that pass before our eyes and still, never enough is it. I said, did, felt, heard. Fantastic. Now what? Exactly. Whenever it is at the very recesses of my mind, it resurfaces to remind me that the difference will still forever be the same.
On the street. The rain. And then the closed stall so I had nothing to show. Only little bits of weathered water in my hair. And the table in the middle of all other tables. That's when it told me - the difference will always be a difference.
posted by DS at 2:06 AM
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