existence.

"Sad stuff makes beautiful poetry, but it's not so pretty to live with." [-Merecat]
*For the Dear Diary Competition*
(I recommend anything beyond 'Tumbling Ash' for the rest is a mess of nonsense words that hold no character, no story and absently fill the page)

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100. Slipped Feet

 

I find it funny that my ability to dance makes both myself and the person watching

turn away yet I constantly

feel like I am dancing my way through life and friends and places and memories,

as if my feet never stop moving,

caught in a constant pirouette of dizziness.

 

I try my best to keep my eyes in one place,

my arms around him once in a day,

and remind myself it was a thing that simply meant a wasted night and a boring day

nothing more then simple friendship

with a few winks of romance

and I know so many things and understand it all but my eyes follow and my arms

want to embrace for eternity and I want to re-do that night

just to say yes more and watch that glint in his eye again that made my lips stretch.

 

I want to talk more to someone

talk less to someone else,

if I knew the outcome of such situations my mouth and body would have moved in such

different ways and as much as I know

time travel is non-existent and perhaps this use is far too selfish,

I wish I could change my words and watch the impact of them.

 

Don't we all wish we could change certain events?

Wish we fell into another group,

looked away so our eyes could not catch such an impending memory,

wrote something different down to be ever-lasting

because I hope these words forever stay and my struggles and feelings and general paranoia

is forever coded into the machines that run both

society and our hearts.

 

-19th January 2016 

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