Table Of Contents

Monday, January 24, 2011

no. 061 [lost in the world...]

"Lost In The World/Who Will Survive In America" by Kanye West (Feat. Bon Iver)

I feel bad. No. I feel horrible. I hate that I'm here. At this crossroads. My head; constantly telling my good intentions "no." My heart; not wanting to let go. Common sense; beating the holy hell out of me. Logic; my enemy. And here I am; in too fucking deep for my own fucking good. Broken and cynical. everything I thought...wrong. Yet everything I right. Everything I feel...cold; unreal. Everything I want...close to impossible. Yet...I sit...hoping...waiting...wishing...even though I said I wouldn't. I wear a mask, so colorfully illustrated, fighting my own private war. I pay for crimes I didn't commit, but what for? I lost everything...but one I write...

I'm lost in the world, I'm down on my mind
I'm building a city, and I'm down for the night...

The optimism; I hold dear. Why? Because it's all I have left. That's why. Why the fuck not hold onto it? Because it's the only thing that brings me comfort, the only thing that really brings me any kind of feelings of happiness, joy, or switch those around if you want it to not sound so dissonant. I don't care. Everything is and is not already. Why should order matter? Like organized chaos; a bullet through a flock of doves. What chance does it give me? Because it's all contradictions now. Love is, but isn't big enough. Because...

You're my devil, you're my angel.
You're my heaven, you're my hell.
You're my now, you're my forever.
You're my freedom, you're my jail.
You're my lies, you're my truth.
You're my war, you're my truce.
You're my questions, you're my proof.
You're my stress, & you're my masseuse...

Love and hate seem much like twins now. Yet I can't bring myself to say one of them. If you don't know which then flip a coin and take your pick. For once I feel the sting of anguish, the horrible aftertaste of despair. There are no characters in this play, no RED &'s just me and you. I fought my war, now it's your turn. You know me, I'm too weak to let go, yet you stick around. Walk away if we will never be, or suck it up and never say never. If this is worth it act like it, because I'm fucking tired of tip toeing around it. I'm lost. Come find me...but first find yourself.

No, I don't want to see another writing; the pessimistic side of you. Another half baked idea of pushing me away, because I'm still here. You can have your cake and eat it too, but you must preheat the oven first. Talk it over, reach out. I know, hypocritical it seems for me to put you on blast, but it seems to be the only way to reach you. Paper planes I've thrown fly over those walls you've erected. If I could have I would have, knocked them down that is.

So I call for it, one last time. If you say never then so be it. Walk away, leave me be, and quit fucking this up. But if not, if that voice catches your ear, saying, screaming, "don't let me go," then let me know. Otherwise you'll have to do me the favor. Love is supposed to be the idea of acceptance; of seeing a person for who they really are, flaws and all, and still sticking around. I guess I'm too fucking in love with you. A broken record train-wreck is what I've become...lived long enough to see myself become a villain. Superman is dead. And all that's left is you...both...


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