you...create me with your eyes
as afterthoughts....what is this residue of feeling, a trail escaping the mouth of cavernous thoughts that changes daily, ordinary life into something else, something different? It is like looking at a kitchen table where you have sat for everyday for years and years and suddenly seeing it in a new light even though nothing about it or its atmosphere has changed. It is almost as though some new stagnent emotion as been given life after years of dormancy and you are not quite attuned as to what or how it makes you feel when you encounter the ordinary (at which point the change of persective shivers from ordinary to extrordinary); and thus making your thoughts and expectations clumsy and out of place..
To define it differently, as I sit here away from eons of anything I have expected to have known or to have experienced (in the surroundings in which I was raised, faced with the familiar whose masks have been torn away, corroded by time and my own experiences) worlds are sparked into creation and consumed into dust in single moments as two people pass each other in the street. And thus, we create each other with our eyes, our ears, our mouth and our fingertips.
as afterthoughts....what is this residue of feeling, a trail escaping the mouth of cavernous thoughts that changes daily, ordinary life into something else, something different? It is like looking at a kitchen table where you have sat for everyday for years and years and suddenly seeing it in a new light even though nothing about it or its atmosphere has changed. It is almost as though some new stagnent emotion as been given life after years of dormancy and you are not quite attuned as to what or how it makes you feel when you encounter the ordinary (at which point the change of persective shivers from ordinary to extrordinary); and thus making your thoughts and expectations clumsy and out of place..
To define it differently, as I sit here away from eons of anything I have expected to have known or to have experienced (in the surroundings in which I was raised, faced with the familiar whose masks have been torn away, corroded by time and my own experiences) worlds are sparked into creation and consumed into dust in single moments as two people pass each other in the street. And thus, we create each other with our eyes, our ears, our mouth and our fingertips.