July 16, 2009
This is the time when I felt worse than the usual.
I want to tear those pages. Pages of my rules. Pages of my own bloody rules.
I want to tear them until they’re infinitely small and meaningless,
and therefore there aren’t any.
There’s no plan, there’s no signs,
there’s no construction,
there’s no ever-predictable course of action.
There’s no loss. There’s no sadness.
Shrug off. Tab’s paid. Bar’s closed. Leaving.
Without any remorse or regret.
Find or be found,
Leave or be left,
Lose or be lost.
Some things are certain.
Like this smoke rising in the sky,
Like this fire spreading,