false alarm

we are all being held up to someone elses standards.
and we are all holding other people up to our standards.

it might be human nature, how can you objectivly look at someone when you know have expectations. high or low ones, they are still there , and they still effect your perception - we can't help it.

we all know it's there, and it't not going to change, but what happens when you are not enough? or too much?

what if all's you wanted was to put distance between yourself and someone else - is it selfish to steal against the failure you yourself faced in meeting another someone's deffinition of what they "need" ?

because they weren't what you needed but you wanted them for that exact reason, beacause what you need you don't want - for whatever reason.

it's always the same - the damned same.
and you would have let this one save you.
pity.

momentum

isn't it interesting how wanting something is enough.

enough to feel something, forget something, destroy something, loose something.
and it doesn't matter what you want either, could be you want to forget, distract, hurt, feel, fall, stand up, anything.

but in automatcally thinking about wanting something, isn't part of you hoping for destruction? even if it's on a small scale?
if you know you want something, you are wanting to want something. if you want to want it, do you really want it? or do you just want the justifcation of wanting.

- - did that make sense?
maybe.

it's thinking about something to much, probably because you don't trust yourself to make the right descision. when you look at someone elses problems it is easy to tell which is the right path and which is wrong. but yourself? - no so if you look at it from outside of your body you think you are helping yourself. not so.

your over thinking, if you think like you would and like someone else would, how will anything ever be accomplished.

it's trust
and promises.

what if you dont know you can make them?
trial and error hurts.

it's just one more person who wants to be saved, in a way - yes.
but in more ways, i think he wants to save me.

maybe that's what you want
or maybe it's just what i need.

- - but if you need it,
part of you must want it.

i'd rather chase the wind

upon asking for sanity with the morning
- although it's an extended process-
i guess it is, excuse the pun, dawning on me.

i have so much i want to work out semantically but it only comes out it minor fragments or rhyme scheme, scraps of meter, and awkward but desperately passionate motivation through space.

as frustrating as this is, i guess we'll call it cognitive writers block,
this is the only place i can get to tonight:

it's perfect,
like the weather.
mild predictability
in you
turning me
inside out.

i don't even know what that is supposed to mean.
don't you hate it when you don't even understand what you, yourself, write.
- but then isnt that also the beauty of poetry?

i'll make more sense soon,
if i weren't so superstitious about making promises i can't keep, i'd promise.
and isn't that significant in itself?
- and if you know you can't keep promises but you promise yourself, that knows this, anyway is it really making a promise?

maybe it's just hoping.

painted corners

i want to be everywhere and no where all at the same time.

. . .

isn't it interesting how things. . . events . . . can just exsist around you but - as much as you want to - you can't bring yourself to activate your senses and renter some form of "normal' conciousness.

the past two days have been a haze
as i have been so imersed in recognizing familiarity
and trying to find it a place in the things i am now trying to associate as familiar.

like any change
you don't want what you are learning to live without
to suddenly reappear

not so soon, there needs to be an adjustment period
wanting something for so long
and then flipping a switch and not wanting it
then being expected to flip that switch back
is impossible

it's selfish
human beings don't have switches

i wish i had gotten more than 2 hours of sleep this weekend
i wish i could stop the things revolving around me - i cant feel them
i wish i could feel something

- - interesting how i very rairly write in the first person, and tonight i have, i think that is noteable, though i have not found a good way to express the reason why. - - maybe in the morning.

yeah, morning.

- - i get it - this is first person because it means to much to put distance between this and a narrative voice. it's personal and it the one thing i have never denied to effect me. when i exile the use of the word "i" i can look on in a quazi objective light - this, is anything but objective.