to be fascinated, to suffer, to dare

the good life? a boat in water. trailing wakes that pinpoint where i come from. ahead: flawless potential. but not even, really. i think i would enjoy being a constellation, weeping silver stars and flirting with moons, lady diana laughing in her pewter palace in the sky. empty space and points of light. but my conflict, the thing that tries to keep me, is the endearing quality of naivete. the clean smell of wholesome. family and seasons. animals living in a world i would like to inhabit: treading the line between shape and chaos. to laugh out loud. to be fascinated. soft eyes, good hearts, and a hand to touch. do nice boys really finish last? i talk of things i will not utter and never possess.

sweet hunger. a silent pleading. i wonder why we become scared to voice desire. does that irrevocably express weakness? i cringe from the cliches and yet fold them around my heart. i battle with this paradox constantly. my mind has been unraveling since i started to think. i would like to believe in the sincerity of promises. i can recognize less and less; my world moves so fast. no wonder i seek certainty in words. but even words are not enough. even words fail me.