which way is up

it's too easy to say one thing
too stupid to say another
caught in the midst of nothing-made-something
or something made nothing
this nothing
of something
is everything's
one thing
a mess of things, only made good by sitting back watching
and i am inclined to enjoy
the game
the toy
but the false sense of 'owning'
is clearly,
not
the objective.


i make waking seem intense
admit to a sense of purpose
in a seemingly purposeless activity
a clear attempt at enjoyment
that i fully enjoyed, don't get me wrong
i am a freak of uninhibited nature
that makes space
for
deliciousness

the middle

essence is

language leaves space for myth
as does everything else

my wholehearted belief in the
infinite brilliant blue of the sky
may be shared by you
initiating connection
but your perception of blue may actually
be my green
which you or i could, sadly, never know

perhaps that is irrelevant, though

what happens, happens

of course i write it.
we all do.
in a aimless haze of naivety
armed with invisible ink
we 'think'
(make a drink)
and pacify our notion that there
is no pen
in our hand
by demanding the truth must be tangibly seen
and therefore, we must not have written

it can be seen
one must know what they are looking for
otherwise one will never see

reading glasses will never help one see far away

i feel the pen in my hand
i know the words are there
i have understood their existence
as my explanation of fate

now: to stop my involuntary stream of consciousness from
pouring all over the page in uncensored chaos
and
determine the consequences of it

then
find a pen
with black ink

not red

nom de plume

incomprehensible am i
when i try to fly knowing falling is fate
then i fail to fall knowing trying is flying

silence, screaming
i whisper the best parts
in the wrong ears

and always the story no one hears
is the one scribbled on the
back of the action
i took instead

even i do not know
if backs break
or wings grow
in the end.
i've never read that far

muse

this is the story
that no one
reads
this is the reason
it keeps
being
written

impossible: to gain the knowledge of explicitly and truly inside you
or me or any other random bit of 'humanity' we call a person
(you = anyone but me)

hide and seek, anyone?

sure, i'll play
i seem to say

but before we begin,
we've got to decide who's
it.

who seeks
and who hides?

does the hider actually enjoy hiding really well?
or is the anticipation of being found the REAL excitement.

does the seeker enjoy the seeking,
or more the moment of victory?
see, the thing about finding the last person is that
after that point
the seeker is not 'it'
anymore

and it is a whole new game

and at what
point does a hider realize
if the seeker has stopped looking
for them?

...have they just hidden so well
that the seeker is left with no options
but to give up?

maybe the hider thought they were playing hide and seek
when really
it was tag
and the dumbass is actually supposed to be chasing people, instead of
sitting up in a tree all day long.

maybe the seeker got tired wandering around seeking, and decided to take a little power nap?

maybe the hider is an idiot, and was actually 'it' themselves?

perhaps the seeker got pissed off,
'cause they didn't want to be the seeker in the first damn place,
they wanted to play cops and robbers, actually
but no one would listen.
and so now
the seeker has stopped playing completely
in hopes
the hiders
will just get tired and go home.

maybe the seeker was counting to a hundred,
got to eighty-four,
and suddenly remembered what they were supposed to be doing instead
of playing hide and seek
and totally bailed on the game
leaving the idiot hiding

waiting to be found

unaware the seeker is now at home
making dinner. (or doing laundry. or playing cops and robbers...)

they say those who remain hidden the longest
are considered the best players.
but perhaps sometimes,
they are just ignorant to what is going on around them..
(like...it's pitch black out, and you've heard no sign of life for quite some time...well, except that rustling in the bush just behind you...oh, and that somewhat creepy growling noise to your left..)

but goddammit,
this game is not called
"hide for no reason while no one seeks".
and if you can't trust that the asshole seeker isn't actually LOOKING
then,
can you even play?
(or maybe,
that's part of 'the excitement'?)
simple childhood game, my ass.

i would much rather play truth or dare

damn hot

for some reason,
at some point,
she slammed doors
(was cold, or fed up, i'm sure)

misplaced her jacket, her senses, what have you

but in the cold, empty room
(which was, actually, less empty
with just her in it)
a moment came where
she did find warmth.

in fact
it was
damn
hot
in that one spot,
where the sun shone directly
through
that
window

'...do i...stay?' said she,
still slightly reeling from her tantrum of late,
hearing nothing but the echoes of her words off the walls

now,
lack of light
(sunset?)
has made
everything
very
dark
as lack of light does...

she inevitably questions the intensity
of the sun,
moon, and stars
which still hang in the sky
beyond all the doors
she'd shut
(and the window she could not)

contemplates which exit might
face the sun,
illuminate night
though darkness precedes morning, right...so..