Another wall,
another dead end.
Confronted with it,
all too familiar,
once again.
This can't be the limit,
there has to be more.
No,
no.
No.
Not now,
at least,
but maybe not ever.
And maybe I'm too late.
There's no breaking out of,
a slump like this,
and there's only one end,
despite all the options.
There's only one end.
There was sex, sleep, conversation, and art. There was no love. We did not even love one another improperly.
The art was tired, and made in the spirit of fun. Art is only art when it is expressing an emotion. We expressed our humourous side, with a slice of our inner happiness.Happiness took its foot of the gas occasionally, and the remnants of past glittered with pain in the pupils of our eyes.
The sex was never tired, even when we were. The conversation never struggled, but never went much below the surface. Sleep didn't matter.
We existed this way for months, in between relationships, ex-lovers, and competing friendships. One day it broke, and we may have spoken a total of three sentences each since.
Even broken friendships are worth remembering. Some things that glitter lose their appeal too soon.There is an abyss of lost friendship, and conversations that should have happened.
Sometimes we dance on the edge of both love and friendship. Sometimes we are too broken to dance.
Defeat and victory are temporary;
slight failures or successes,
in a doomed timeline called life.
Nothing is permanent,
attempts at legacy;
futile at best.
What does that leave for us?
Enjoyment of the 'now.'
So don't stress,
don't worry,
life's not meant,
to be taken seriously,
or to be at all permanent.
She's going to destroy you,
believe me.
Twice bitten,
never shy;
the words of youth or bravery,
somebody with an invulnerability complex,
or maybe all of the above.
I'm guilty,
to hell with the consequences,
there is no judgement coming,
save for self-judgement,
and the judgement of your peers,
and if you can't handle that yet,
you haven't really been living.
Watch out for the pessimists,
along with their poison words,
and the way they sap life from everything,
and give life to nothing.
Be optimistic,
I know life sucks,
but suck it up and move on,
that's the only way to be happy.
So much baggage:
Why do you still talk to HER?
Who are you sleeping with?
Why did you write on HER wall?
Who have you been dating?
Do you still talk to your exes?
Who is the last person you slept with?
Why did you friend your ex again?
Are you just going for coffee?
Which friend are you hanging out with?
What are you going to DO?
So many questions,
such a waste of breath,
stop worrying about things,
that don't really matter;
live happier.
Andy Veilleux 