High Windows

Oh but fuck it,  they don’t even need doors.  So if I have seen one, all I can do is take as many hours as the days have.  So 4 is a good time to wake, 1.30 is a good time to sleep.  Life is pretty fucking excellent, why stress it out?  Tonight’s calm… This morning, even.  MGMT, M.I.A, The xx, Creative Writing, coffee, herbal tea, beer, quick smoke because I love the snow and if they’ll come through the trees I may as well see it through a haze and actually, you know, this morning I don’t even believe in them.  They’re just representations, you know, something like them is always around the corner because some things are certainties and it doesn’t matter which one you tap, the end’s always the same and it’s okay.  It’s okay.  Today, the first day, I didn’t stub the fag out on my arm.  The scars are many, the skin little but why bother hurt it?  It will get hurt.  People get hurt.  I’ll get hurt, you’ll get hurt, we’ve all been hurt, we will all be hurt again, sometimes by the things that have already hurt once or twice, again and again and again and why struggle, why fight?  Why cry when the dreams put their hands on the back of my neck, why cry when I feel breath where there’s none?  So what if I invited the pain, so what if I’ve invited them in?  There’s not a great deal we can do.  We can’t move forward because of the flux, the loop, the losses gains etc. Why not just stop for a minute and smile?  The things we see that are, and the things we see that aren’t, are all just part of seeing.  The magic spiders the other night were beautiful; they’re gone.  The ghosts are gone.  But all of it’s always there, waiting to be tapped and my fingers may as well be ready.

Good morning!

 

And underneath your pastures green
There’s earth and there ash
And theres bone
And there are things that dissapear
Into it and then they are gone

And there is light that hits the sky
And then it is midnight again
And there is my mother, my father,
And you and we are all impermanent
Emmy The Great

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