There are days when a silence
,as if some specific space or a physical thing,
bars me and you
When i dream about people
worry whether they exist
or whether a dream serves as existence
enough
Never could i always explain these days to you; to anybody
that, when i fear my friends
morphing fear into some form of self preservation
that i feel safe
safe in the thoughts that I understand, and that my understanding is me
i crave these days, i know i do,
whether they are crutches
or whether they should rather hold me from reality
is but something else, another worry
because I need these days
to think of you.
Author notes
I exploded.
They was no revision
no poetic practice
only explosion.
Just read it real quicky. Thats all thats meant to happen.
Comments
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Holy Shizznizzle
"morphing fear into some form of self preservation
that i feel safe
safe in the thoughts that I understand, and that my understanding is me"
I was looking through some old notebooks of mine last night and, NO LIE, I wrote almost the exact same thing.
Great minds, maybe?
-
so i went back and read this slowly, merely because it says to do the opposite.
this is an extremely interesting "explosion", considering explosions are usually known to destroy things, rather than create them...
the first stanza is my favourite, apart from the comma at the start of the second line...
i don't know if it is there for some specific reason, but it is making me twitch anyway. XD
i find this piece very pretty. i can't point out a certain part as such, but there is something delicate about its entirety.
it flowed really well for something written without revision.
:]
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