visibleorigami | It becomes increasingly harder to know what to say; to find that there is anything to say. Obviously it has already been said and the same people not paying attention then are not paying attention now. It's not my alarm clock and it's not my world, that so many are attached to living in. I want the straightest route out of Dodge, too many people want a condo in the center of town. The town expands, intent on drowning the outskirts with its unbearable presence. Implosion looms. Empty rockers rock, in empty rooms.
The density of the spider's web, is conversely equivalent to the density of the web inside the victims heads. Shelob's and she hurls, inky darkness, to swallow the world in night and they're all curled up in their beds of doom, sleep tight. Sleep tight. Tight is the word, tightly wrapped and strapped down by the web. These are the things we dream about. These are the things we dread. It all seemed so nice in the Formica life, till the bombs went off in our heads.
So, it's like that, chattering on in unfortunate rhyme. It seems it amounts to no more than passing the time, while passing through. The same people keep assaulting their associates, like they think there's some light at the end of that tunnel, on that losing proposition. Where they think that is going to take them and what their payoff is, I can't guess. Seek and ye shall find it is the operative consideration but it appears simply finding what is already there, or fabricated to suit them will do. Diminishing returns doesn't seem to factor in. They just keep diminishing, until even the one they are returning to is gone. Maybe that's fitting in any case.
It just makes me tired to see it. Picayune wars, devoid of the conscience that would restrain them, seems to be the order of the day. If you can't come to terms with it or move past it, then you might as well kill it and off yourself in the bargain. I can't see the payoff, I really can't and my words fall on deaf ears, when seeking to reach the aggressive principals, no doubt making myself a target in the bargain. Any time I try to make the peacemaker I get a peacemaker stuck in my ribs, making anything but peace and accompanied by the sentiment that I rest in pieces.
The density of the spider's web, is conversely equivalent to the density of the web inside the victims heads. Shelob's and she hurls, inky darkness, to swallow the world in night and they're all curled up in their beds of doom, sleep tight. Sleep tight. Tight is the word, tightly wrapped and strapped down by the web. These are the things we dream about. These are the things we dread. It all seemed so nice in the Formica life, till the bombs went off in our heads.
So, it's like that, chattering on in unfortunate rhyme. It seems it amounts to no more than passing the time, while passing through. The same people keep assaulting their associates, like they think there's some light at the end of that tunnel, on that losing proposition. Where they think that is going to take them and what their payoff is, I can't guess. Seek and ye shall find it is the operative consideration but it appears simply finding what is already there, or fabricated to suit them will do. Diminishing returns doesn't seem to factor in. They just keep diminishing, until even the one they are returning to is gone. Maybe that's fitting in any case.
It just makes me tired to see it. Picayune wars, devoid of the conscience that would restrain them, seems to be the order of the day. If you can't come to terms with it or move past it, then you might as well kill it and off yourself in the bargain. I can't see the payoff, I really can't and my words fall on deaf ears, when seeking to reach the aggressive principals, no doubt making myself a target in the bargain. Any time I try to make the peacemaker I get a peacemaker stuck in my ribs, making anything but peace and accompanied by the sentiment that I rest in pieces.
