(came across this writing in an old note book this morning. not a dated journal so I don't know when I wrote it)
words spoken stiffly. words embalmed with pretentiousness. you could watch them fall out of the mouth like broken teeth. words no one hears. no one is listening. the posture and positioning of the listeners is as false and unauthentic as your eulogy. we face each other lying. one the lie of attentiveness, the other the lie of sincerity. we are both trapped. we both want to leave and be anywhere else. but we are poisoned and immobilized by obligation. encased. if there is a pulse in us, it is inaudible. we can be mistaken for the dead. the dead are more alive than us now. they are free. we are yoked to the tyranny of our own expectations. entombed in the sandstone pyramid of ten thousand consistencies. buried under ten thousand shoulds. each stacked upon the other. each following the faulty rational of moulded tradition. the air is gone. the trees and the clouds and the birdsong - all gone. the cold. the searing heart. the smell of winter wood. all gone. we use to feel alive. we use to dream. we use to see the stars.