Ride
T'was a long and dark december...
Of course it was. And I remember it like it was yesterday. Lying by a goddess, soaring high above the realms of mental consciousness. Talk about ethereality. But I remember it like it was yesterday.
The ride was endless. Simply because I didn't want it to end. Who said it needed to end? It probably hasn't. Reality might have, but you know it's still there. Riding along the fringes of your brain-space; your memory, your dreams. That's quite the bad, bumpy road... But that's a trivial issue. Minor crests and troughs in life are what get you through the day. No?
You'll be alright.
Ride on, you crazy diamond. Or was it shine on? Whatever it is, just live. Live this existence like it were already over. Live this moment like it'd never come back. It probably won't. Inhale the air of guilt and sickness and exhale it with enough justification. 'Cause without a reason, humans can't comprehend their actions. But own yourself. Rule the land you tread on. Regression can go fuck himself. There's only one way out of here and you're gonna ride all the way down that road. Wherever it may take you. Whatever you may look like at the end of it. Whoever it is that you're clinging on to. Ride on.
6 comments:
Do I detect a hint of something positive emerging from under all that gloom, finally?
Or am I just misreading this?
Hmm.
The times they could be a-changing.
you and ur fuckin neo-stoner writing! but i agree with baboon on the note of possible optimism in it.. hmmmmm...
btw what goddess is this that i havent heard about ? HUH?
:)
Neo-stoner?
hahaha. I love that term.
There are many goddesses you haven't heard about, Nivedh. And sometimes, secrets are better left that way.
Positivity was always there, boon. Gloom is just like a grey cloud. It comes and goes like the rain.
Except for the fact that rain makes me happy.
Hmm.
I'd guess that it's pretty much dark and gray-cloudy all the time in your head, then.
Except for a touch of sun every now and then.
Yeah, rain usually makes me happy. What all these writers have against gloomy gray clouds is beyond me.
People relate life to the colour of the sky far too often. I do it too.
But there's a limit. The rain makes the ground smell nice.
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