A Variation

Not like I’m trying to be something. I just can’t stand not to not tell it. Like trapped in a cave screaming and ranting no more a slave to society, freed by isolation. I’m not much on destruction of self more like the destruction of all. If it’s all being built up then it all must come falling down some day.

More like a Jenga puzzle where everything seems so nice but you’re so delicate it makes it no longer fun. You poke one through, but let’s face it you’ll always lose because the other guy sees what you can’t. That’s perspective. That’s power. Not like you look at a different angle but you interpret what you see differently. He sees opportunity and all you see is a pile of square pegs.

I tried once to put together a puzzle but I realized it’s not much but a recreation of what it was. People ordering pre-destroyed puzzles just to put them together. Like they’ll take it apart and do it again someday. I’ll buy a painting and same precious time and not feel frustrated because a side piece is missing or something wasn’t cut right. That’s the struggle of the jigsaw- you can’t guarantee when you’re done that it’ll be perfect. In fact, you know it won’t be because it has 500 pieces all mechanically cut and when it’s put together the cuts are like scars, marring the picture you spent time to recreate. 

The funny thing is there’s no humor in all this.


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