I met a girl who sang the blues.. and I asked her for some happy news..she just smiled and turned away

blue flower

For how long can you talk about the same thing, for how long can you pour yourself out? The insides are gonna run dry one day. And if the pain and anger stops feeding you, you will shrivel up. If you are filled with some other thing this time,only happiness and peace, the same puncture holes aren’t big enough now. There will be no breaths to come, or you will no longer be able to so take them in. Either way, it’s pretty much over

Is it over for me? Was it the anger, the pain, the sheer illusions that made me write? Made me breathe? Made me something different from so many I have met or avoid meeting over the years. Have I run dry? Or is it the continued happiness? The peace, the  prolonged absence of that lingering pain? End of the struggle, or mere acceptance of the defeat?

Its, different..different to be standing, standing knee-deep in a small pond of stagnant water after being sea sick on a boat for so long. Yes, the vomiting stops and you feel fine for a while..but after that…it’s just..too silent. Too green, too peaceful..and too still

Man, it’s too still

still pond

 

(Title: American Pie by Don Mclean)