Static Disembodiment

Not many are able to stand still and watch as change decays their beloved portrait of a moment, but the select few seldom withstand the energy displaced, and fall, twisting and gripping.. those who turn their backs - denying the crippling, disfiguring phenomenon of similarities that wither away - these are the ones framed in wrought iron, wielding deflections and self-promises - all in vain, for superficial self-contentment.

those who face the music head-on, music blasting, and only wince - these are the true soldiers. for in every sigh, every tick of their eye - within every unshrouded thought, there awakens a dormant suffering,.. the longing that not only accompanies you, but stays too long and never wants to leave.

if one were to change the ebb and flow of time, were they to eliminate what is so frighteningly real and true - change - and infuse the void of longing with the deep, rich fulfillment of what's needed, moments could never last. time would be the embodiment of ephemeral, and gravity would reverse. happiness would invert to a secular moment of perpetual discontent, loathed by those same who wanted the change.

what's proposed, a static utopia, where euphoria exists between, is nothing but a dream. some could even call it a nightmare... what do you do when you want to change but fear changing will freeze a moment in dysphoria?

what do you do when you cant slip between the cracks of beaten cement that cascade your life's walkway,
when you're unable to surround yourself with the blanket of blissful ignorance, blindness, and indifference?