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mytwohands
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ive been
searching
and reading
and keeping
to myself
all morning.
this weekend: has been crazy. so much gone wrong must mean so much going right. we're running towards the headlights at full speed, and not letting up--never letting up, until we crash. crash crash crash. it's time to crash until our minds and hearts and souls (do you know what these are?) explode into this brilliant confetti falling from the sky. i want to sing to the dust--something straight from a phil collins song or a pocahontas-esque experience as im dazzled by "the colours of the wind." i spin spin spin from the tip-top of sanity and then collide down to the dark breaking point of our demons. amongst the shadows, lurking, lurking from behind. each word begins with a look over each shoulder; each sentence muttered aches at the bottom of one's stomach, an anxiety-ridden ulcer shaking every inch from your toes to your tickled tongue.
crash crash crash
collide collide
darling, collide.
welcome to the oblivion that means these days when we enter the classroom--not full of chairs or books or instructions, but the door to our tomorrow, to the future we've been ignoring quite well for what seems an eternity. i scan the friends pages of this child-like journal, as twisted teen after twisted teen examines their recent graduation, their recent open-door or new experience: the idea that life shall never fall into their lap with its simplest intentions, but tease them, taunt them, singularly lurking just above their head like some cheap, greek archetype. in a rush of info-mercials and promising ads, we squeak through the self-doubt and secret illusions to open the curtains to the unknown without a shutter of fear. an empty hand, an empty head, an empty heart. you are empty--and that which you have excelled in thus far means nothing the second you trip from your towering platform of comfort.
(so i plead to you:)
whether you are young or old; in good spirits or in poor; living amongst the rich or the misfortuned: for times shall go your way, but you'd be surprised at how few times alanis's rules to life: the idea of karma, of fairness, of right's triumph over wrong--the eternal rules: (whether it be golden or that of Hammurabi--an eye for an eye or turn the other cheek), the skins of rebellion will come your way.
(so i plead to you:)
hold strong, hold strong, hold strong. live your life according to your principles--(not that of your elders, of your society, or of the morals opposed upon you). examine the man on the street, the man on the moon, the man of success, and the man of deceit: learn like the student you have been for so many years, from other's rights, security, generosity, fear, and sheer joy. because i swear to you that if you live a life of pride in your own decisions (regardless of the esteem others hold you in), you have a chance.
and that says a lot...
because very few have a chance//
i probably don't.
but ive always rathered
living vicariously
through those around me
than making the effort
to simply live,
instead. yet (listen:) the lessons are screaming in your ears, in your face, and straight in the context of your heart. it's begging you to consider your options. begging you to leave your box, reject security, and ask questions such as, 'what is the colour of rebellion?' or better yet:
WHAT IS THE COLOUR OF ME?
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050605
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