How’s the easy life? Wonder if it would fit Us, suit Us. Don’t think so, We live the daily struggle. It’s only been a year since We went full on crazy. Now everything is hurting, excruciating if you ask Us. Are you hurting? Are you after something, or just satisfied with how that peaceful perpetual drag pulls you around. It would destroy Us, slowly, inside, so We figured if We went after that ourself, then this life could no longer affect Us with its boring slur of flowing into each day over and over.
We told them, We said, he’d never figure out this is for him. Now it has Us in a cycle of contemplation, how obvious should We make it and how far do We go before it becomes too obvious. What can We reveal before anonymity breaks.
Seems We’re after something, wonder if those conversations we used to have would spark any incentives but it seems those days are over. Are those days over? Can we no longer share the same room, talk, be friends? You have been one of the best when it comes to friends. Maybe. We don’t know anything about friendship or relationships for that matter. Are We a good judge of character, are you? Who knows, who could judge on that? Damn, this is taking a rather strange turn.
Walking Miles Away
What can we talk about? You’ve become a different person, don’t see you enough to know you. That seems to be the case lately. Maybe that’s life, maybe it’s Our doing. The road We’re walking. There was this junction and We had to turn down left lane, We’re sorry buddy, but you can’t follow down this path. We’re truly sorry. It’s only now that the realization sinks in. Here, before the pad, grasping the pen with such a vicious grip it’s pressing the skin of Our middle finger up the joint. A callus, a writing callus.
Fuck, never thought We’d say this kind of thing. There’s no room for this form of relation and just like you, We will slowly fade from your life. This seems to be what’s happening. We don’t like it, you probably won’t either, but that’s life, and no maybes this time. That’s just life. Sometimes it’s sad. Something We hope you’ve come to understand in those past few years. There’s not a thing we can do about this. You chose easy, We picked annoying. That’s the truth and there’s nothing to push against that, no objections. No denial.
Our writing changed, hasn’t it? You’ve seen this shit before, just in another manner than it represents Us now. This shit’s weird. Is it any good, worthy material. Don’t know, never know. You know how We get when it comes to writing. Often gets dark, doesn’t it. Would say it gets emotional, but does it really, We never excrete much emotion from these spiritual pores.
Contemplative Maintenance
Is it okay, are We a jerk, an asshole, maybe a bunch of assholes wrapped in a leather trench coat. Yeah, We kinda are. Maybe even selfish, is it selfish though, to choose Us. Wouldn’t you do the same? Honestly though, We’d applaud you, support you if only you’d do the same, but We know now, for a fact, that you’d never choose you. What a sentence. Though it is true, it’s just who you are. Not Us though. In life, in this life at least, We’d choose Us in a heartbeat.
We fucked her, not in the sexual sense, but We fucked her good. You don’t know her, never seen her, but this part is as important, or even more so, as anything else. Home alone, for a couple days, we were texting, she called me up, had a chat. We invited her, was a long time since We saw that pretty face, let’s call her Marie. And Marie came over. She wanted Us, though it came as a slight shock, it was half expected, why else would she come over. And she wanted Us bad. But you know, often times We’re not really into that shit. Fucks with Our mind, with the nature of Our contemplative state.
Ooh Marie, Never More
Marie came closer, and closer, and even closer, and we fucked her. Not in the physical way. We kicked her out. Then We woke up, grabbed the phone, called her up and cancelled the ‘get together’. We thought to ourself, let’s hurt her feelings now instead of waiting until the moment where she would boil on the inside, unable to withstand the arousal, the need to know more, to venture deep into the connection of spiritually bound physicality. Does it make sense? To Us it does. Then We deleted the conversation, hope she never sends Us again. We can’t get distracted any longer.
And if you look at this, being able to turn down such a blessing, ponder what We’d be willing to shy from other than that. Maybe the answer is everything, but for now the answer might just be you, only you. So, once again, We’re sorry pal, a million times, Our time is limited now, and the schedule doesn’t allow room for wasteful activities, nor hour long conversation about shit that doesn’t change. We praised those moments back in the day, many souls held comfort in these expansions of mind, but those stretches of swirling tongues uttering chaos are over. Now the only utterance We’d force ourself to is these slathers. A chaotic resemblance of Our inner dialogue when it comes to external connections to this physical existence. Randomness, something you’d never survive. That’s why you chose the easy life, or rather the easy life chose you.