It's the sound of anticipation; that damn vacuum. It happens right before you take a big breath, before harsh impact; a large explosion.
It's simple really, it's the silence of everything put together, like the color white is to color.
There's the emotion, the oomph, octane igniting, knowing there'll be heat, and--split-second later--there's heat. Then there's too much heat, and it hurts, and before you know that you want the damn burning to stop, you're done.
Thing's interest me, thing's like that; thing's unlike that. I don't know why they do, but they do, and I like that.
When I'm looking at a full page of text, I like to unfocus, and look at those blocks just as how they come together. I look at them, and I think about how damn incredible it is that this form actually means something, that it is made of little parts that all each mean something. What's even more goddamn impressive is how there are even further pieces of those blocks that make up the page, and they all have their own meanings and connotations, and that somewhere, somebody else will see those parts and attribute different meaning to them, and somebody else won't be able to place real meaning to them, and somebody else will be figuring out what they mean to themselves.
Goddamn.
Now I wonder, does someone have to say their last words out loud for those words to count as their last words, or do they just have to think them? If they have to say them out loud, then what about mute people, do they not have last words? Would signing out your last words count as 'saying' them? How about just writing them down?
If these are the kinds of things I think about, then how am I so goddamn charming? These things, on my mind, tend to run morbid, is it the philosophical bent I might've given them? Either way, I have a golden tongue, I know this, and there isn't a goddamn thing that can change it.
I know that my defiance gives me the confidence to be endearing. Knowing that, no matter what, they can't touch me let's me look, haughtily, right back in their eyes and they compulsively shy away. My eyes say to them, "Nice try, I win."
It's simple really, it's the silence of everything put together, like the color white is to color.
There's the emotion, the oomph, octane igniting, knowing there'll be heat, and--split-second later--there's heat. Then there's too much heat, and it hurts, and before you know that you want the damn burning to stop, you're done.
Thing's interest me, thing's like that; thing's unlike that. I don't know why they do, but they do, and I like that.
When I'm looking at a full page of text, I like to unfocus, and look at those blocks just as how they come together. I look at them, and I think about how damn incredible it is that this form actually means something, that it is made of little parts that all each mean something. What's even more goddamn impressive is how there are even further pieces of those blocks that make up the page, and they all have their own meanings and connotations, and that somewhere, somebody else will see those parts and attribute different meaning to them, and somebody else won't be able to place real meaning to them, and somebody else will be figuring out what they mean to themselves.
Goddamn.
Now I wonder, does someone have to say their last words out loud for those words to count as their last words, or do they just have to think them? If they have to say them out loud, then what about mute people, do they not have last words? Would signing out your last words count as 'saying' them? How about just writing them down?
If these are the kinds of things I think about, then how am I so goddamn charming? These things, on my mind, tend to run morbid, is it the philosophical bent I might've given them? Either way, I have a golden tongue, I know this, and there isn't a goddamn thing that can change it.
I know that my defiance gives me the confidence to be endearing. Knowing that, no matter what, they can't touch me let's me look, haughtily, right back in their eyes and they compulsively shy away. My eyes say to them, "Nice try, I win."
