A New Day

Dawn is breaking, and once again I'm awake to see the light.

Too bad that the line has no metaphoric connotations whatsoever. That would make life simpler, yes? Instead I'm left watching the same stars fade and fall away and the same old beautiful broken moon every time I take a chance and look up.

I've been searching the skies for too long now. Nothing ever changes. Well, nothing significant. I mean sure, sometimes the moon isn't even there. And sometimes a star I get particularly attached to decides to crash and burn, but in the end it's all almost the same. Almost.

They say hell is an endless cycle of similar events. I thought that was how life was defined. But then again, "endless" is pretty huge. Not something I can even dare comprehend without kissing sanity goodbye. Ah, but the only thing longer than forever is never, right? In which case it isn't exactly impossible to imagine eternity. We do so much worse every day.

It should bother me. The fact that I don't even want the sun anymore. But it's already been quietly accepted in a peaceful wisp of smoke. Besides, there are a lot of things that should bother me and don't. Why should this be any different? No reason at all.

Oh, I could fix my sleep cycle. I could sleep at night and socialize in the day. But these words keep floating by: "No one says anything important during the day." So true, and so deftly eliminating my one (make-believe) reason to fix things. Like a head shot.

Everything I need is right in front of me. And I'm not allowed to touch a thing. Because if I do, I can never have the things I want. And never is a very very long time. So, I lean back, close my eyes and let the smoke dance around. Fragile is relative. And Patience is a virtue. Glass is nothing but sand. Sometimes strength can end up becoming beautiful and fragile. But fragile is relative. And the moon always comes back. "Everything under the sun is in tune , but the sun is eclipsed by the moon." Eclipses are what everything is about. And everything is what eclipses are about. Maybe I should relocate, but where can I go to escape the moon? And why would I want to? Songs. Beauty. Silence. Words. Sadness. Memories. Perhaps I'm just an easy person to haunt. Perhaps it's what comes out of waiting on the dark side of the moon. A tear can sometimes help pass time. Me? I prefer cigarettes. I guess sooner or later, I'll have to take that last drag.
But not yet.
Not just yet.