Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before (Capacity Pt. 17)
I can’t tell you the last time I had a good day. Furthermore it’s hard to recall the last time I even woke up with a pleasant dream still lingering in my head from those last moments of sleep. Sometimes even my daydreams are depressing. Nostalgia is more like a horror story for me. To be sentimental is to bring on the supernatural beings of the past bent on further destroying me from the inside out. The past is a poltergeist. Everything that goes has a way of coming back. Today is hanging in the suspense of when. Tomorrow is already a bad memory.
“heaven’s gate whines out opening up for all the tears of boys who were told not to cry. for all the girls abducted from their potential. for all the others forever denied. for zombies whiter than snow. for ghosts much the same. for corpses blackening in decay. for limbs much the same as gangrene sets in. for sun unable to melt the cities back to the bone of streets. for long winds sweeping out the corners of the neighborhoods. for the hillsides with a view of the comings and goings of paradise.”
“when I say we sometimes I mean I and the voices I’ve heard or the voices I’m searching for. and sometimes when I say us, you can join in. and sometimes when I say you, I can’t imagine who I’m thinking of. and sometimes when I say they, it’s about me. and sometimes when they don’t like it, I revert back to I and start again.”