There is a place that I’ve heard has been to write about. Much has been tourism about it and the lame conclusions have already been drawn. You know it better than I do. You already knew it. Maybe that is the reason you are sleeping well in your abodes. The way I just wanted to hide it all from everybody, you have already done that, dusted that and offered me the knowledge. Now that I know, a free breeze there is out of my window, what shall I do if not repeat what I already did, only to be fooled but yet another significant thrust of my insignificant texts…
I’m going to call you. Not now, but somewhen there won’t be sympathy for me. Lest the judgement is already made that yet I destined to suffer, there won’t be less of rights that I’ll pledge to do. In the smoky silence of the mists, in cool wetlands, where my thoughts will be alive, I’ll create reasons to be the bests of me and take me to you. That impossible line stolen from the end of the shores of my imagination, you shall stand mocking the best out of me. Shameless, penniless and capeless I’ll be listening to your atrocity of letting me speak my belief out.
Laughingly, you are unknown right now. My thoughts are copied. There’s isn’t a distinction. This is no story to make sense. Falling still out of me, the rains where once we hid our pains, of all the worthlessness of waiting for miracles to happen in a world where long gone are our truest selves shelving no thoughts of ours till another hopeless tomorrow, and pitching every enlightened thought into something connected to reasons unbeknownst to us in a world so dumb and stupid.
I cannot reach you for enough haste has been applied and enough secrets spilt. Any one of us who hits the core, which everything is, witnesses the worst. Of what? Matters of philosophy coming out of stupid deeds not once but every single day, matters of failures dropping on the primetime shows at the prime times in front of the people primes enough for the moment meant for prying on each other’s soul, what good it’ll do if we make matters right? I’ll put it bluntly. Will you help me be something I always thought I’m? I’ll help you be what you want to be. Thankfully, there won’t be any fallouts. I think I’ve tried this one already. Check for two. Will you come for me if I ignite the best of me to ask for just a moment of you with me? Will that be a better exchange?
Once I leave myself into this loop, only I just leave everything to fate and wonder that things will be better tomorrow. But how long do I need to write? Even if I did my best, will it be enough? Will you come? Can we forget what we did to ourselves and to each other?