Slipping String

10 0 0
                                    

I find myself strategically placed within optimum intervals to bring about these intricately weighted experiences that clothesline me back into my past. Responses and elegant denials that reciprocate an exponential debilitation until I am subsequently forced into a habitual reaction. All these old characters reintroduced into my life and I am given the choice to be me ten years ago, or me today. It seems my choice between the two is arbitrary, as the opportunity to make the “right” decision is presented again and again. That decision, is to be me right now, of course. Eventually we figure it out.

Maybe the reason these characters are so frequently reintroduced into my life is because I don’t completely let go of them (as melodramatic as that sounds). I retain and maintain bridges; parts of myself with moving mirror lips. If I truly let go, what would actually happen? I wonder if the representations of me would completely disappear; if I would be a blank slate with no prerequisites to grab at my ankles, trying to control my steps. It’s an art of consistency, just like everything else. Consistent steps, patterned orientation, elusive separation and restitue explicatives. They all conjure beautiful questions don’t they?

I often think I live to break my rules. Maybe that’s why I aim for such crazy scenarios and operate only at relative levels of extremes. Most of those rules involve relationships but I’ve come to realize that most are pretty biased and at elementary levels of silliness… However, my thoughts are an accumulation of the entirety of my life and being that I am 20 years old, I have spent 60% of my life as a child. So, naturally, some of my beliefs and thoughts still remain childish and I don’t blame myself for that. I do know, however, that these rules are meant to be tested and eventually removed because there is no place in this world for strict adherence to behavioral patterns. The ultimate goal is to embrace every experience with an absolutely blank slate and accept all lessons without any experiential judgements to back interpretations. Just innocent learning. That’s what I truly want. Oh yeah and some love too. Love’s good.

I guess I’ll keep this one.

I left my hands with my eyes, holding blue.

Crying true that the alpha-you, is nothing new.

Stained fingers and dripping youth;

What happens when the truth lies beneath a destructured noose:

Trending lightwaves can they ever ignore you?

I’d like to think I hold one.

Enough to give, enough to smile.

Then I remember my life, a course. Something very new.

Something lightly dangled between two heavily arching trees.

Pine needles screaming and a whole world in view.

Lightly canvassed grasses and a floating river, fingers buried one by one in the ground.

The stains bleeding away, green grass turning brown.

Our eyes light the fire time let out and when wisdom breaks its bounds, it’s okay to fall down.

Rest a while.

Never let yourself drown.

Superficial, it’s in the clouds as we remove our wrinkled hands from the breaking,

Creasing ground.

Staring at the spiral envelopes of an ever expanding timeline, we let go of the excruciating blue.

Our fingers renewed;

Enough so that one day walls will remain removed and all that we gave will contain all that is true.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Aug 14, 2013 ⏰

Add this story to your Library to get notified about new parts!

Slipping StringWhere stories live. Discover now