glass of water

I am standing staring at the glass of water. Stars in heaven aligned, and they never sounded so good. Them voices. I look away into the night and hear the voices sing, hear them sing as I stare at the glass of water, and the glass is sweating.

I used to rule the world, or did I? I thought I did, but in fact I am staring in a pool of mud staring at the glass of water. The pool of mud below me that looked like gold under a different light. Deceived, I hear them bells ring, and the choirs sing. My time will come, and I will have to allow the mud to suck me in. I stare at the glass of water, and the glass is sweating.

I don't think they know who I am anymore. The words I have said, sorta went blur. That is the thing, I often do what I don't wanna. Oh look I am stuck in the mud, are you going to take me out?

I tread there myself, softly, but slowly, and then the gears shifted and it is stuck in reverse, and in time my tears will stream. That is how it goes. I will lose something I cannot replace, maybe my sanity, maybe my innocence. Then it is gone, out the door. But it will be fixed. Eventually.

I stand and walk through the mud, eventually the rain will fall, and the ground will clear, and in time, I won't be standing in the mud no more.

I stare at the glass of water, and the glass is sweating. But in time, it will sweat no more. The sun will be up, and it'd be dry.

It is just like that...

There are some things that just cannot be changed. Staring at it for the longest time will shift it, not. I have been staring at this box for the longest time, and the angles were still the same, and I do not want it that way, but yea, the box will be just that way. Yea, it will be just like that, sigh, just like that. The problem is, at this angle, I cannot open it, and if I cannot open it, I cannot have what is in it, and I want what is in it. I do.

Maybe I will just break in, but until then I will just hold onto it. Quite tightly.

Things in the past I so would love to fix, but crossed lines don't move, neither can they be uncrossed. Walking with it is the only way to fix it. I just have to take the load and walk through.

Oh fuzzy lines, and green leaves, where the tree falls, there it lies. Purple petals, and pink ballet pumps, where the tree falls, there it lies.

That is just the way it is.

Yea, it is just like that.

Just like that.

I am an adult now, and staring at myself in the mirror for the longest time will shift it, not. And so that pile of KIV-ed issues on my desk, I have to face, sadly. Much as I want them responsibilities to just fly away they stay, and if you haven't noticed, the pile grows. It damn well grows, and as much as I stare, it will still be the same. The pile still sits and no one else is going to take that seat, but me. No one else can, but me. My pile, my seat.

Maybe I will just overturn the table and run away, but until then I will just sit. Quite tightly.

And so I sit here, box in one hand, with lines I may or may not cross, and piles and piles of files to clean up.

I walk on.

Mummy cannot help no more, I am not a child. She has her own pile, and her own seat.

Oh fuzzy lines, and green leaves, where the tree falls, there it lies. Purple petals, and pink ballet pumps, where the tree falls, there it lies.

That is just the way it is.

Yea, it is just like that.

Just like that.

A hug from her would be nice though, wouldn't it?

Yes, that is just the way it is.

It is like that.

Just like that.

in my place

I stare at her coldly, with my champagne in one hand, now warm, and my cigarette bud in the other, I stare. Coldly. I could hardly guess what she would do next. The dark room filled with the cold air from the open window and I shivered a little. The cold sweat from the champagne glass trickled down my arm and cause me to move so I can shake it off. She does the same and stares right back at me. Coldly. So so coldly.

I don't know if it was because she hates what I do, or the lines I cross, but it feels as if she and I are two different people. There was a time when we were one. With the same mind. But now we are two conflicted beings. Her and I. Opposites, and at times I wish I were just like her. I bet she wishes she were like me. But she cannot be. She cannot be.

So nowadays we sit and stare at each other coldly, we don't talk anymore. No more. It makes it too obvious, our differences and I cannot handle it. I wish for her beauty again, for her innocence but I have strayed far away and her beauty drifts further from me.

We are separated now. Her and I.

And the line between her and I, now is the one that I cannot cross.

I stand up and turn my back towards her. I bet you she did the same. The girl in the mirror, she turned her back to me. I knew she would.