Iíve patched up many holes in my walls
And painted over them several times.
Succumb to the horizontal view from a
Bed where old wounds are easily forgotten.
Yet when daylight shifts up and down
Through those blinds
It shines light
On these things.
The easiest way to bury the past is to
Do nothing; for nature compounds itself.
Rain, wind, and time will settle
Over our wounds and conceal them.
It may take a year, a generation, a century,
But you will forget.
It is by our frantic efforts to make those
We have wronged forget our crimes,
Those, they are bound to remember,
Duly, as the sun rises.
Wonderful man. very good as always. this is sepia-toned, and matter of fact. a black and white narrative of a crime noir scene, a cigarette-smoke filled room.
More than my fear of being hurt, I fear the hurting of others, for I have more control over the latter.
But sometimes life just works out in a way that everyone gets hurt. We are too imperfect to avoid it. Too lazy, too careless, non-vigilant in our relationships, too selfish and undisciplined, wanting too much without giving enough.
We fuck up. Life is painful. We hold onto hope to see if we will ever get this thing right. Doubtful that we may. Can we have a relationship in which we don't hurt the other person? Ever? Or does time inevitably create strife?
Missed Expectations, lies, resentment, regret, regret, regret. Wishing you could turn things around, go back and do them differently.
Is it possible to regret future decisions? Things about your life you know you should change, but you know you never will grow the balls to do so, so then. . . you regret future events because you know you'll never make the appropriate changes, then parties involved leave or pass away, and you're filled with eternal regret, foreseeable regret. What a shitty thing to look forward to.
You talk about burying the past. . . . you ever wanna bury the future?