this day and that day and that another day. romantic interludes on a theme, a strain which carries on in the background, loud as a hushed whisper in the silence of the night. today, it feels like the end of a play, the end of a day, when the guests have left, the tables not yet cleared, the chairs in a disarray as my hair, as it should be. echoes of what happened here, still resonate and make my toes curl but i mean now it's done and now the show is playing in another town, on another stage as we all move on to a differnt place, with somebody else taking our place.
maybe i am not i any longer, surely so it seems. i walk long empty corridors in my mind and they stretch forever, a maze but then as all roads lead to rome, the words will someday reach that ancient place where they can be put to rest or so i think for you know and i know that what we think is often just too apparent, just too much punctuation i would say. its not to say, that i should be even saying anything for as much as i can understand, words only get in the way of really knowing anything.
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