Why do people succumb to anger?
It feels so easy to slip into its grasp. But at the same time, from a distance, it looks quite stupid. Aren't we overreacting? What's the point of hitting one another, yelling at one another, going to war with one another? Yet when are up close, immersed in anger, we feel nothing but blissful rage, if that makes sense. Sweet revenge empowers us. Makes us feel as if we are at the top of the world. Maybe it is a survival mechanism. But I sure wish it weren't.
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Deja vu
Your eyes stare into a blur. Clouds of a dream of some fairy tale land loom ahead. You pass them. Trains of thought chug by. That TV show, those last few words left unfinished on paper, that gaping hole in your life. Going, gone, forgotten.
The blur clears and you stand up, marveling at your newfound perception of the world around you. Walking, talking, thinking seems so easy now. So this is how rebirth feels like.
A tender shoot of a vine springs out of the ground, intensifying in color and vitality. It spirals into a roller coaster of its own kind, kinks and knots everywhere. You'd hate to straighten that out.
You see a path in the distance, and squinting you see a figure roaming around. He looks around, hungry for the sights and tastes of this world.
Deja vu. Doesn't everything seem to be something you've seen before? Doesn't everything you discover seem to have already been in your head? Maybe you've discovered this land a thousand times. Or maybe you haven't.
Je t'ai deja vu.
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Deja vu
Your eyes stare into a blur. Clouds of a dream of some fairy tale land loom ahead. You pass them. Trains of thought chug by. That TV show, those last few words left unfinished on paper, that gaping hole in your life. Going, gone, forgotten.
The blur clears and you stand up, marveling at your newfound perception of the world around you. Walking, talking, thinking seems so easy now. So this is how rebirth feels like.
A tender shoot of a vine springs out of the ground, intensifying in color and vitality. It spirals into a roller coaster of its own kind, kinks and knots everywhere. You'd hate to straighten that out.
You see a path in the distance, and squinting you see a figure roaming around. He looks around, hungry for the sights and tastes of this world.
Deja vu. Doesn't everything seem to be something you've seen before? Doesn't everything you discover seem to have already been in your head? Maybe you've discovered this land a thousand times. Or maybe you haven't.
Je t'ai deja vu.
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Just Koe
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Layout: Mary
Colours: refuted
Host: blogger
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