one too pastel,
one too gloomy,
three times as hard,
three times as horny,
but one felt
four times over
because he felt
for the other.
Ever since that day, I just can’t.
I don’t know what it is I can’t do, I don’t know if it’s a whole collection of tangible things such as maybe I can’t love anymore– or maybe I’m just confusing that with being unable to look at you the same way anymore– or if what I can’t do is that I can’t love you anymore. Maybe it’s an array of intangible, inexplicable thoughts, events, and emotions such as when I lie awake at the dead of night when I should be asleep trying the beat back the ocean of nothingness that had suddenly struck me right in the chest and swearing and cursing sometimes at the dark itself or sometimes you, because deep down, underneath my pride that refuses to believe t...
Where am I going? Do I even know where I’m going? Do I have to know where I’m going? Should I know where I’m going? Why do I have to know where I’m going?
Can’t I just sit here and drift?
A dead soldier is a useless one, the future argues.
But a soldier who doesn’t move may as well be a dead one, the past says.
What if I don’t want to be a soldier? I ask now.
Why do I have to?
What if I don’t want to?
Is it wrong to not give a damn about it all?
Is it truly so wrong?
Is this boredom or just emptiness?
Why do I feel so empty? This is okay, right? It’s all normal, right?
Do I really want it to be normal?
All I want in life is to travel and eat good food and dr...