statement.

i remember you so well, it's frightening. and every day i pray things could be different. less cluttered.
you see, it's not me.
you just make me do real things.
even now.

from the golden book.

*i wish i could run away to a dream where you'd smile at me, like nothing ever happened.*

will magic ever fall from the skies, little pink and blue shiny specks?
just like in a movie. a dumb movie that connot possibly be interpreted into real life.
real life is like 45degrees, 5minute deadlines.
or maybe a hundred thousand million words, staring ahead - numb - for several minutes in a row or talking to yourself in a quiet corridor.
i saw a sick man today, lying on a stretcher, moaning, half awake. they were carrying him to Mayo. i saw his wife. one look. all her fear and woe, she was as scared as a child.
that is life.
watching people - an entire world - on the streets. every soul has a million stories.
naked children, begging in the heat. yelling, laughing, swearing. it's all there.

so, you see. it's not about lovesongs or poetry or dressing up. we all look like we feel.
we always want something we can't get. and we just always need to be someone we can't be. it's part of being human.

i'm not anyone.
i'm just a piece of all the mess here, adding to the disarray.
the day i start cleaning up some of the confusion,
i'll actually be someone.

Declaration.

i wish i owned a black, cloak.
with one little slit to look through.
i don't need colour.
and i don't need to have a face.

the 'veil' is not to be ridiculed. it is an element, much required.