charm's posts with tag: more dada
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i am a minute speck of dust in this vast playground... somehow, i feel like a toddler that's lost, i know that i used to be part of something and somehow, i feel slowly being left behind... i cannot explain the loneliness inside and it makes me want to go with the crowd, although, most of the time i am better @ going against the flow... what to do, where to go, can someone please, carry me home???... oh, the randomness of it all, when i do nothing but type away, chasing characters that slowly transform into words... how do you define dada??? how does it manifest??? where does it exist??? can she really catch up with her mind that's the pace of a bullet train to Mars??? maybe nextime, when i walk away, maybe nextime, i won't feel so left behind...
The week started with black ink set on white paper. Crisp, clean, crystal clear woven with simple words: tender resignation effectivity career growth... But when did dissection become a tender moment? It has always been something like: grasping clutching slicing, shredding fading footsteps greiving... She can try to understand why work around the maze of the corporate ladder now, it doesn't matter. The games do not amuse her, anymore... She has wanted nothing more she has wanted nothing else she has wanted nothing but to learn to exhale... The price of freedom casts shadows so long so deep and may sever ties that @ one point may have felt more than blood... But i do not grieve she will be set free she will be deliriously happy. There are no black and whites here... only gray. Except, the week started with black ink set on white paper. Crisp, clean, crystal clear woven with simple words. *** for a friend, who has found strength to stand up, say her piece, and walk away... i salute you!
grieve. When will i start to believe again? Why does it matter when friends fall and falter? To pitter, patter like rain on the concrete pavement, fear darkness of basements, a hanging, a death sentence. She wears black she wears black. Everyday, she wears, and tears, rot like pears, see tupperwares. Feels like, shoes run on treadmills stinking landfills, losing wills and wits... Life is the pits, he wrote, she wrote back him full of mocking her full of questions. What happened? this quilt will not mend this quilt will not mend this quilt will not mend. So she, begins to grieve. When will i start to believe again? Why does it matter when friends fall and falter? To pitter, patter like rain on the concrete pavement. *** a collage of things that happened last night... it's better not to expect anything @ all, it lessens whatever things...
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