Its because we care. We care so we allow him to whine. He’s a poor fool. That’s just him. He loves you. He just don’t know how to express. It was a big mess up. He’s a fool. There is angriness. Can’t look at them though, too scared. Might get hit. Might get laughed at. Might.
It’s the sense that we are not alone. That’s why I never give. Gucci. Everything is sparkly, well packaged, aesthetically pleasing. Its superficiality grates, an ornament is not an ornament but the soul of an ornament. That’s where we look for the things we want to keep. I see a boy, and a desire, a want for some statue to have. Who knows it’s a form, a material lump. It’s an empty vessel of memory whose value increases as with his dependency. It becomes alive the more he’s plied with superficiality. If what looks counts, its what he sees. You want to keep him, you will lose him. He’ll love her for her misconceptions, a lifetimes work of understanding, succumbing to an unconscious committal of separation. A paradigms between them, two souls who glare behind windows. A true willing acceptance, whose rewards are determined, a satisfaction of love, so far in the distance. Their sleeping souls, and vibrant physicality. Prisoners of battle, a war too central to its peace, a frustrated contentment. A marriage to need, to the futility of the human condition. A stand off against denial, an insistence of trust. An inseChildren of innocence
You can join Unsolved Mysteries and post your own mysteries or
interesting stories for the world to read and respond to Click hereScroll all the way down to read replies.Show all stories by Author:  56927 ( Click here )
Spring is coming |
