At some point it would be the only thing that matters. Giving it away for the hungrier. Say in a portal of thoughts conflicting. Membranes and debacles are always in the way. And your goals go out the window. Stole the senses out of you. Like an extra, an unreasonable additional structural member. But it is saner you say your mind persuaded. It is safer. It is more kind and acceptable. You tried holding it back much longer than everybody could ever do. The sadness of it all. And the only words they want to hear from you are "It's okay, I understand."
And you'd end up searching for another thing to busy your head about. Like an empty crossword puzzle to attack. You become a book page flipper, a blanket and pillow cuddler, an eye closer. That thing you do when it is sad, Breathing in and out. To the sports portal. Which sport is what you keep asking yourself, And the environs that go with it. It is a bad year you say. A good year for most. There will be more inspiring stories to listen to. More entertaining. Like that memory somebody did not forget. That sad refrain before the chorus. That flicker before the light, and the time that melts your cigarettes away.
Something was wrong you said but nobody cared. Say another missing reinforcing member of a structure you built your thoughts to, And the words, set of words, a sentence, a paragraph that was meant to just form a question mark. Art to appreciate and to just look forward to anyhow. The beauty that brings more quests for questions. The translations and synonyms to deduce about. These words that I can betray and push around.
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