the wind blows into my room
the wind from the fan blows at me
my room is a still place
where today is yesterday's tomorrow

i read those words from yesterday's yesterday
they don't make sense
they fade
i remember the words today
but i cannot hear those words that were never spoken
they fade

faith makes sense of silence
faith makes the intangibles real
faith makes the words mean more than they should
they fade anyway

(all I want is nightime)
(daytime comes anyway)

i imagine the words for tomorrow's tomorrow
they don't make sense
they fade
i remember the words for tomorrow's yesterday
and still they fade


"There is no living being on earth at this moment except myself. I could walk down the halls, and empty rooms would yawn mockingly at me from every side. God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in it's appalling self-consciousness, is horrible and overpowering."
- Sylvia Plath (found on my friend's blog)

ah.
it's a wonder that you always find someone more capable of expressing how you feel at some given moment of lost thoughts. but it is an irony that we are strangers to each other. I'm going in circles.

so much for declarations.