Well you know,
sometimes
it's good
and most times
it's average.
And that leftover part
is the bad.
And it's not spread out over your
life smoothly, evenly.
Sometimes there are lumps of
good, like sugar cubes,
and sometimes there's a long
stretch of tar-like bad days.
And I can't seem to deny,
Sarte was so right, so so
right,
Hell is other people,
he said.
Because what else limits
you but other people.
We have to live with each other
and this kills
our freedom
mostly.
And if I could separate my lives from
most people
I would.
Just take my scissors
and cut the kite-lines
that connect me to
the other humans,
not all of them,
but most.
Or maybe if I could erase my
memory
like in Eternal Sunshine,
then maybe.
But geez,
what are we supposed to do
with all the tangled lines
that criss-cross us
and tie up our bodies?
Cut free
cut free.
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