06.11.01 the nature of spring?
You know that sound of a plastic spoon against the bottom of a styrofoam cup, swirling clockwise, catching like nails on a chalkboard, that makes the inside of your teeth and spine vibrate in a bad way? Thats how I feel now. Like I can't make that noise stop and yeh I'm crazy. All the flowers outside are blooming and the grass is growing and the sun is shining but I'm not a part of that. I am here, with the night, and the moon is silver and glistening and pretty. This makes me happy. I wish that it would rain during the days, be cloudy and let the cold wind blow young girls' hair into their eyes. But nature chooses to separate itself from that, from me. Or mebbe I'm fighting the nature of spring.
The nature of spring...new beginings, the beauty and glamour of youth. The red cheeks of a child, the glossy hair of young lovers. This is not a part of me. This nature of spring is the stranger I pass on the street, never nearing closer than an arms length. They wear large straw hats and jade green sundresses with ugly sandals. I focus on the dirt and dark in the sidewalk cracks. The shalacked black ant. Beneath the ugly sandals.