Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Wanton Soup

My horoscope said, “Nothing is gained by overstating your case today.” But how can I let my words not spill out of my mouth,
Held wide open by the universe flooding it with uncertainty and want.

“Endless rambling” like a car with a loose muffler; that’s me.
“Inflating your ego might backfire...” And three, two, one, “POP.”

These manifestations of the mind fulfill the pleasures of the night, but in the brightness of day all those images and moments of heart beats fall back into the cracks and remind us that we are unaware pawns
We are the unaware populous of destitute conditions. Seeking to capture a butterfly that will burst into fire in our closed hand.

We can’t find ourselves unless we stop looking.
We are like vapors touching a void.
We are like newts failing to evolve.
We are like Quasimodo ringing the bell for sanctuary just as the wrecking ball hits the tower.

So there I go,
overstating my case. Just like I do....
Just like they knew
I would.

After all, it is not the words that break us. It is the silence.
            

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