Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Runners, until the race is run

And it seems to me I'm living, sometimes, between myself and my mind
Sing out, sing loud and long, sing something's worth living, for
There's the ones you've known and the ones you've only just met
and in the beginning, it's always more exciting, elating, filled than the end.
The weight of the end suffocates you inside, paralyzes, for the very notion of perfection is offensive to reality
an impossible word for those of us, living here.
Searching for the sign, for that moment in time when you feel
Him. To search without hope is hopeless, to live without faith
And even when we know that we know that we know, how do we amount?
When is everything, atleast for a good while, okay?
When do we stop the worry, the questioning, the backstabbing, heart wrenching, heartbreaking, judgment of him and then and she and I and us.
When do we let ourselves go, give it up, and truly live, again, like before we'd been buried.
Like we've erased, excised & removed the moments we were broken,
left alone,
spit out,
raped, or
And when you feel the freedom knocking and can't seem to find the door,
because the inside of yourself is something worth missing
for the prospect of someone else's self to consume,
join you in there.

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