used to live, once, on expectation and memories the fulfillment of one was the trap of the other ensconced is the term that most comes into mind and now, like most, I waste a whole lot of effort not seeing or being with anyone else, distracted and ignoring what I know: I seek out what I want, that which most resembles me. call it comfort. get lost in the tumble, rub the bull out of your eyes it's useless to insist on sensible admonitions. is it so early yet that your hand becomes a feature of on your face? a solemn expedition to retrace all the impacts upon you until the next stop x If I were in the place I was meant most to be would the people be similar, as they are and not as they seem? would I still be so? would I still be me? I know we tend to huddle, and there hope that there is truly some affinity, but the arms that are willing to hold you are just as able to elbow out all who least fit into that cherished profile - the repetition of me, we, us. losing, lost. x I think I'm better off rattling off absurdities I tend to linger more, wallow, all the gunk that follows. respectable fellows! groomed as we are to resist in our minds the oppressive cognition of ourselves as rows of fed cannisters = rejoice!
(Originally posted on Wednesday, April 16, 2003?)