Communication Breakdown

Oh, everything is a battleground. You try and I fail. I put my heart in and you watch in amusement, from the sides, with a whole audience. Spectator sports. Neglect, the breakdown of all words. Language, evolving as we use it. The walls of the city were never built to last an eternity, and words as we use them have no everlasting fortress of meaning either. At least not as we regard each other from a distance. Not as we spell our thoughts out to each other. Someone isn't open, another knows not honest, some have hidden agendas, some just can't force the nature of expression. I know those who struggle and get lost down endless avenues, dead ends and nooks. God, the breakdown of everything, communication kicking out, all falls apart. I want my only words, truest of all, to leap out from a computer screen, to shake you, grab a hold of you, suck your face then body into the screen, and take you with them, take you apart, take you everywhere they choose to go. Nothing is ever gonna happen for no reason, nobody can get across what they mean and the sinking plunges ever deeper. We know we fail, we never stop trying, glued to the other side, watching as we do.

Take me with you. Break me. Teach me. Love me. Cross me like two swords. Defender, oh, useless bodyguard. You can stop nowhere and it ends up complete. A castle in ruins. A communication breakdown. Repetition. No solution. We see it take place. She wonders...

The Brick Wall Treatment

She was made out of stone. She was beautiful. She was a building. She was unfathomable. No question about it, she didn’t understand things. I guess maybe that was what would stand the test of time. She was probably broken, just in different ways, but she was something; something to look at, to tick in unusual ways, to observe and to just accept, in all her confused and hypocritical glory. Always on the edge, feeding off both sides, never falling off. I could wonder or just let it all slip away, write about it, put it to bed. Yeah, that was it.

If you ever come up against a brick wall, don’t take it on, perhaps. All it can do is dwarf you, all it can do is bounce your words right back at you, maybe even break you; stop you in your tracks. Completely. Oh, and it towers over me, and I can do nothing. I can storm its shadow to keep me from the brutal sun, painting the streets, around every single corner. I finger the puzzle, the pieces in my paws, it makes no sense. Some puzzles were not meant to be finished.

I could bang my head on you, I could knock myself silly, really put myself amongst the tortured ones. But, to be frank, this treatment is educational for me. Everything that rolls my way, whether I see it coming towards me or not, is designed to help shape me, just like those jigsaw pieces, so that one day it all fits, so it all just fits, someday, maybe.