more to do

love, love love, thank goodness and the universe and whatever power are anywhere for the music... thank the music most of all... and the words... the words and the music together, thank you...

wide awake at 4am without a soul... meanwhile, so much is getting done around here and yet, still more to do... stuff stuffed into boxes over the last ten years and moved from one place to another without thought of inspection, finally getting looked at and tossed in the trash... and realizing how long i've lived without looking around at the details... more than a decade i've lived like a refugee, a fugitive, a whatever... living out of boxes, living in spaces i paid for but never called mine, never made mine...

so alone... so disconnected... so little to offer... the words?... maybe the words were all i had to offer here after all... thereal, the words... and i leave them here as if it doesn't matter if anyone ever finds them, all there is to me... oooo, who has chills?...

seriously (shhh, indulge the fool a moment longer)... the dream of sharing, is it over?... or just sleeping?... the who or the beatles, and how deep it goes... if anyone ever read it all or just listened to the tapes, they might know for so many of the pieces of the puzzle are there... left behind in boxes... in the trust of love... and maybe it was all a lie, a farce, a delusion... so why do i keep believing if i just keep on keeping on, head in the words, heart in the boxes, don't face the facts, the loses, the betrayals, the abandonments... am i a fool for continuing to believe everything will work out fine?...

or is it more wise to just give up on trust, on love, on believing in the human heart?... i put so much faith, power in the music, in the words, in the tapes... it always comes back to the trust placed in the tapes and the promise... the belief that no matter what, the love was real, the understanding of the importance of the identity stored on the tapes was clear... that is why they were so important... the tapes... the record of my memory, my beliefs, my identity... that is why they were so treasured and why they were kept... why they were held on to... why they keep coming back to my mind even though they have not been shared, copied, returned...

if i had time, or cared more (oh crap, this not caring enough to continue weaving the tapestry is not a good sign), i'd find the threads, the entries, and link a path through the maze to more detail, to the evidence that proves to me just how important this has been for so long... instead, i might guess (does the link work?... does it lead to where it's supposed to lead?... to the three prior entries?... maybe, and maybe i'm wrong... sigh, moody blues... and maybe it's completely random narcissistic (erp?) self-indulgence, aye?... what's thereal without some melodramatic confrontation or even, the illusion of self-doubt?)... so much is missing...

so much more to do...