this was a poem that sort of just happened while I was talking to someone. at least...I think its a poem...
Him:
there's wisdom in sharp things
solace
beauty
Me:
reflection
distortion
Him:
escape from the moment
Me:
in a moment that doesn't exist like you want it to
but for a moment...you can fool yourself
Him:
for a few glorious seconds
your troubles disappear
Me:
and then the light shifts, and all you see is grey
Him:
all the hate, anger, channeled and slipping away
Me:
cold, unfeeling steel replaces your precious illusion
Him:
or your hated reality
Me:
its all cold in the end
cold, grey, and sharp enough to cut you if you aren't careful
Him:
isn't that the point?
Me:
no
its the edge
Him:
and edge you can't see to drive away all the things you see all too clearly
hate, anger, depression, jealousy, fear, self-loathing, it can all disapear for a few precious seconds
Me:
until you rotate around to the other side...then all you've got is another illusion
or the sins and emotions you worked so hard to suppress
Him:
aye, the demons return soon enough
the question all boils down to are the few precious minutes worth all the hassle?
Me:
only so long as you can guage the distance between yourself an the edge
Him:
why do you need to guage the distance?
Me:
so you don't get cut
Him:
but my dear fellow that's the entire point
Me:
getting cut's the point?
Him:
i think we've been talking about two different things this entire time...
and that was the end.
Waterproof
