Imagination

Having a strong imagination sucks sometimes.

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It’s always a whisper how she passes through slowly.

She looks at me, every single time, clawing and crawling towards the surface of comfort, surely, but again slowly.

I see her, gazing and staring at what could be, at what will never be. It’s disappointing sometimes, but life usually is.

I know sometimes that I should’ve tried harder, or maybe pushed further, but talking is easy and doing isn’t breezy.

She approaches me, gets close, and all of a sudden I realize how my imagination is just the frustration, of a man so willing to imagine.

She never really knew I was there, and I don’t find that not one bit rare. You know, all I ever wanted from a stare, was something I thought could be there.

Yet again, I was wrong.

My imagination never ceases to play tricks on me, and that’s alright. At least I can still imagine, which is fair, but life sometimes is truly fucking unfair.

Spring

I hate this time of year.

The spring is ending,
bending all in it’s way.
Summer on the horizon
with disappointment and regret,
with failure stacked up,
like an organized stack of hay
embedded within my being.

The sorrow, the sorrow,
nothing can be said about it.
It hits while you’re on your way,
towards nothing.

That’s the effect of springtime on me.
I’m going towards the unknown,
or better yet,
the unknown is chasing me.

Fuck you spring,
I sincerely mean that.