“On the subway today, a man came up to me to start a conversation. He made small talk, a lonely man talking about the weather and other things. I tried to be pleasant and accommodating, but my head hurt from his banality. I almost didn’t notice it had happened, but I suddenly threw up all over him. He was not pleased, and I couldn’t stop laughing.”—John Doe, Se7en
“I don’t think that people accept the fact that life doesn’t make sense. I think it makes people terribly uncomfortable. It seems like religion and myth were invented against that, trying to make sense out of it.” - David Lynch
While you think I’m on a loveless straight, in the letters from the lovers in a land gone wrong. Explanations always written late, when your talent curse the framing of the crying you heard sung. I could lie I don’t care about what’s missing… But sometimes it’s just roses dying too young.
Your train of thoughts is always passing here, with it’s falling paint, and it’s broken gears. It’s the damn revelation blues when you see the path, and you know you won’t be the last, oh, lord…
I was more than just a terror. I was crying too. But you showed me in the gusts between that a wind is sometimes broken and its flying path has no meaning nor a ghost within. When your talent is in hiding, that your feeling is always wrong; I always want to bring you something, but sometimes it’s just roses dying too young.
“I can never say what I want to say. It’s been like this for a while now. I try to say something, but all I get are the wrong words—the wrong words or the exact opposite words from what I mean. I try to correct myself, and that only makes it worse. I lose track of what I was trying to say to begin with. It’s like I’m split in two and playing tag with myself. One half is chasing the other half around this big, fat post. The other me has the right words, but this me can’t catch her.”
“Everybody feels like that to some extent. They’re trying to express themselves and it bothers them when they can’t get it right”
“No, that’s not it either.”—Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via salitterdrying)
This is why events unnerve me; they find it all, a different story. Notice whom for wheels are turning. Turn again and turn towards this time. All she asks: the strength to hold me, then again, the same old story. World will travel, oh, so quickly, travel first and lean towards this time.
Oh, I’ll break them down, no mercy shown. Heaven knows, it’s got to be this time. Watching her, these things she said, the times she cried, too frail to wake this time.
Avenues all lined with trees. Picture me and then you start watching… Watching forever, forever. Watching love grow, forever. Letting me know, forever.