Needles In Wonderland

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Needles In Wonderland: I blow smoke in the back alley of my mind. Life is just a playwright and I'm the undergrad writing it all down before it slips away. Only I can truly love myself the way I invented it and everything else is a mere juxtaposition of what I created. I am my true self only to sun, the trees and the wind blowing underneath me. My mirrors cannot see me. I can’t tell you who I am when I haven’t figured it out for myself. It's a drag race, I tell ya, and we're all heading for the some cliff. We're only just sight-seeing here and when life hits the pedal to the floor, there's no time to take a picture. I am looking for the answers like everyone else and my near-sightedness only presents what’s in front of me. Maybe you could hold my hand and find them together, but if we can't find them, at least we were there together to fail. I have nothing to offer to anyone but my own confusion. I have my words, but they're not worth much.