We crave the attention of so many bodies
So many eyes looking our way
Hundreds of smiles we return
Yet we still have this void
The emptiness within
What will fill me up?
God, how easily I lose my grasp
on what makes my face light up
My heart remains warm
So easy to turn to the faces that do not know who I really am
How can I find myself in the eyes of the selfish?
So many fragile hearts,
Too many broken
The hands of the clock lay limp
We're wasting our time anyway
Constantly planning our futures
up until we die
Breaking over and over again
Up until the glue has run out
Where has all the time gone?
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2 comments:
A broken arm will mend in time or even a broken leg. But broken hearts and borken spirits seem beyond the reach of most medicines, adhesives and even the time-tested salve of time itself.
Where, indeed, does the time go? And why do so many people seem to drift through life devoid of emotions, empty of feeling and essentially blank in every way?
Moment of contortion. Body stripped bare before leering eyes. Alone. Sea of faceless multitudes. Shrouded in distrust. Betrayed by insatiable desire.
Slowly instilling exhibition of self. Resilient to her guardian's cries. Fear dissipates as thirsty mod enters. Supple. Spreading thin her morals bound by conformity.
Define for us - "truth"
Define for her - "freedom"
Define for me - "us"
Subjective nature: Individuality.
Never-mind these thoughts as they pass. Squandered, idle words. Alive in order to learn. Learning in order to...
Cheers,
-Baz
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