Look at the rush we’re in.
Not going anywhere. Pushing through as quickly as possible to reach what?
The surface? So we can breathe.
Breathe what? More wasted time.
A man stands alone unless he is with others. But the others have too much influence on his posture.
Sometimes I forget to include them.
Because I forget that we’re supposed to be different.
I have no hold. There once was a grip, but something told me to let go.
I did. And now I am floating. Not falling.
I float, not moving, and I get to see every angle of my perspective.
It gives me nothing. A better sense of what I see isn’t what everyone else sees.
It’s still just me. And I need to let go of me. But.
I have no hold.
Dreams, the stuff of the unknown, abstract is the explanation.The explanations have no hold either.