heaven is in my shoe and smelling good!
i have settled down comfortably in what i call a "hideous tranquillity".
the word "hideous" in context is not "ugly", or "unpretty" but,
a brand of "groteseque", "unnatural", and an aftertaste of "shallowness".
mind you, just an aftertaste.
though, when it's gone, it's gone.
do rotting peaches feel like that as they oxidise in their rusty cans?
do bunched up socks feel like that as they come out freshly washed?
like you belonged somewhere or thought you did, but now you don't or you feel you don't or you know (knowing is tricky) you don't and though that usually makes you feel like you are being stretched across a room (searing pain!)
but now, you do not feel a flying fuck and give a flying fuck anymore.
that's how i feel.
a little certain, a little uncertain, and a majority in denial.
and what a mess it can be: being part of an equation that does not quite sum up.
mind you, i am so much a formula person that it is not funny when one and one does not add up to two.
but i try my utmost best to understand
-even when it is so hard to-;
when it's gone, it's gone.
it is so funny that i can begin to cry right now,
but the spaces in between are so conforming
that they begin to embrace me in a way that i wanted my dad to.
give me no space to breathe, to think and we shall call this a deal closed.
all i want is a heaven so small that no unhappiness can call it home.
all i want is something, someone that comes closely to a figure i conjured up.
decimal, fraction, whole.
but everything seems so massacred upclose.
everytime,
one's for you, we, us, them, mary+jane,
or ben+trip+ejan.
could it possibly be that, one plus one will never be two?
oh dear, that's an evil situation for me to be in.
the word "hideous" in context is not "ugly", or "unpretty" but,
a brand of "groteseque", "unnatural", and an aftertaste of "shallowness".
mind you, just an aftertaste.
though, when it's gone, it's gone.
do rotting peaches feel like that as they oxidise in their rusty cans?
do bunched up socks feel like that as they come out freshly washed?
like you belonged somewhere or thought you did, but now you don't or you feel you don't or you know (knowing is tricky) you don't and though that usually makes you feel like you are being stretched across a room (searing pain!)
but now, you do not feel a flying fuck and give a flying fuck anymore.
that's how i feel.
a little certain, a little uncertain, and a majority in denial.
and what a mess it can be: being part of an equation that does not quite sum up.
mind you, i am so much a formula person that it is not funny when one and one does not add up to two.
but i try my utmost best to understand
-even when it is so hard to-;
when it's gone, it's gone.
it is so funny that i can begin to cry right now,
but the spaces in between are so conforming
that they begin to embrace me in a way that i wanted my dad to.
give me no space to breathe, to think and we shall call this a deal closed.
all i want is a heaven so small that no unhappiness can call it home.
all i want is something, someone that comes closely to a figure i conjured up.
decimal, fraction, whole.
but everything seems so massacred upclose.
everytime,
one's for you, we, us, them, mary+jane,
or ben+trip+ejan.
could it possibly be that, one plus one will never be two?
oh dear, that's an evil situation for me to be in.
