it's all a matter of time.
look what we've come to. every story has been told at least twice. Most of us couldn't dig deep enough within ourselves to find any sort of depth or meaning in our sad lives. so we look to the few that can. and take that as our own. we're emotion theives. and most of us can only dig up an ancient emotion on an oh too hot summer night when we can't sleep. and we're all to preoccupied to even notice that when we do actually have a thought it's not about the whale beached on the interstate or the mass pigeon feeding on 26th street. But its about whats for dinner and who we'd rather be seen with at the local coffee shop this weekend, where we'll sit and talk about what work was, and who's doing what. It's hard for us to sit and appreciate what we did before we lost our vision. Simply doing nothing on a warm day or laying in the snow watching the trees get covered flake by flake until a dish breaks and suddenly we're awake. And all that we can remember is that it wa a good dream. and that's it. Imagine what its like for me to take my imagination off and set it on the bedside table and stare at you. right in the face. I'm making horrible looks at it. but it's not you i'm just trying to figure out what color your eyes are today. Because you wont believe. no tell me when i say i can't see you. well, i can see you but i don't care so i look past you and imagine bigger and better things for my day. And then i fall back to sleep. But you're still there telling me something about the kitchen. And then there's that pleasant dream again. the one where my face is cold and white. its right where we left off. it's hard to look at the sky when it's that bright. And at this point i don't even care what your name means. or really what it is. is. You see nothing is important enough to wake me up from my childhood. The one i never got to have until now. And it's all made up. The really sad part is, i wont remember it tomorrow.