Friday, November 18, 2011

Waking Dream.

"I'm not an actor on your personal screen,
I'm a practical person.

You might be surfing in the wake of a dream
I'm not fast, but I'm certain. "
-Senator and the New Republic, Call My Mechanic

I think the whole world is filled with signs, but if there's no laughter, I know they're not for me.

Her existence is in question. 
The ridiculousness of all this. 
Oy. For another day. Another time. 

Time's not your friend. Time won't stand on its hands. It won't bolt back to the house, like your muddy dog ready for dinner and a bath. Its spent. Every minute of it. Money given to the ice cream man. Never to be seen again. So who are you this time? Are you the girl from swampland adventures? From late night walks around town? The girl laughing out loud, writing songs about lemonade & gossiping? 

Are you the girl trapped in a memory--a dream shattered--shards of glass sparkling with feigned beauty in the sun. That damned setting sun. 

Are you the girl who marks time with letters, holding the pieces. Acting like glue. You have more to contain now than that pink house could ever hold. God forbid you let the moments go. God forbid you let go.

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