Sometimes, reality feels insecure or incomplete, as if it were  propped up on stilts. A room there upon with seams in the walls, letting everything beyond it shine in, like sun into a dusty bedroom in which I stand: afraid sometimes to make a sudden movement for fear that it’ll all come crashing away.

– And then, sometimes it feels like a wall, made of the highest height, the longest length and the best masonry. I walk sometimes, along it, or away from it. But I usually come back to the same spot. Always running my hands along, helplessly watching it up and down, knowing its flawlessness and still wishing for a split.


~ by crossmd on November 16, 2010.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: