There is a certain comfort in choosing to be alone, in experiencing a state of limbo, in being numb to any external entities. There are no expectations from anyone and certainly none from yourself. You live inside your head, cushioned against the carpet of your being, its fibres dyed with the dust from the roads that your feet have communed with and the rivers of blood that now dance on your lips. You live inside the vault of your mind that seems fluid and free and complete in itself, cocooned by the fuzziness of the clouds gliding by... Clouds that captivate you with the novelty of their quirky shapes and sometimes lull you into a peaceful slumber with the familiarity of their textures, and clouds that more often than not, define the very minutes and seconds of your existence.
Uncoupling from yourself can make you feel displaced and disoriented. Suddenly you can no longer orchestrate your reactions to the machinations of external forces. It feels like a complete assault on your senses, all too much and too soon. You need someone to hold your hand but your fingers seem to slip through the cracks. You are welcome just as long as you fit in, a box inside a slightly bigger box, a loop inside another perfectly rounded loop, just right and just so. But you know all too well that this could never be you. You who are made of black coffee and white dreams, brown dogs and blue babies, choked cries and mad laughter, a lukewarm winter and the stillness of summer, the caretaker of a life that's never been lived. You start to open your mouth to speak but your voice is first drowned out by your own hesitance to step into the harsh light and then, by the perfunctory exchanges that you are now subject to. The square boxes and round circles come and go as they please, they connect and disconnect on their own clocks, they take you and leave you as they wish. Your fingers move, you start to type, the thoughts inside your mind beautifully lined up and ready for release, but it's too late because your audience is now retreating before your muddy eyes, saying hello and goodbye in the same breath, leaving you hitting backspace until there is no more space to back in to.
Uncoupling from yourself can make you feel displaced and disoriented. Suddenly you can no longer orchestrate your reactions to the machinations of external forces. It feels like a complete assault on your senses, all too much and too soon. You need someone to hold your hand but your fingers seem to slip through the cracks. You are welcome just as long as you fit in, a box inside a slightly bigger box, a loop inside another perfectly rounded loop, just right and just so. But you know all too well that this could never be you. You who are made of black coffee and white dreams, brown dogs and blue babies, choked cries and mad laughter, a lukewarm winter and the stillness of summer, the caretaker of a life that's never been lived. You start to open your mouth to speak but your voice is first drowned out by your own hesitance to step into the harsh light and then, by the perfunctory exchanges that you are now subject to. The square boxes and round circles come and go as they please, they connect and disconnect on their own clocks, they take you and leave you as they wish. Your fingers move, you start to type, the thoughts inside your mind beautifully lined up and ready for release, but it's too late because your audience is now retreating before your muddy eyes, saying hello and goodbye in the same breath, leaving you hitting backspace until there is no more space to back in to.
4 comments:
Wicked piece of writing, Cloud. Intense. Like lightening.
Thank you so much GG, it means so much coming from someone I greatly admire as a writer! You're being too generous but I graciously accept :-)
Would you believe, I was going to delete this one after deciding not to post it. But then I gave it another read and went ahead after some editing and rewriting. I'm glad I did that.
I really love the passion in all your posts. Commenting for the first time.
Thank you HDWK. You've actually commented on a couple of my posts earlier :-) I like your blog too.
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