stranger's disease

"i wish i believed you when you said that this was my home"



momentary lapses of unending bliss

have you ever stopped at the pebble-stone floor lined up with dog shit from the upscale neighborhoods and consider the reason why you're still doing this? why you're still pushing yourself out of bed morning after morning, washing your face in cold water and wearing hills in the wrong weather? it's not a question that someone will ask you, because it's almost impossible to think about a reasonable answer. is it because you prefer or choose to suffer for all the right reasons than be happy with might kill you? they are still out there, the momentary lapses of unending bliss, that you can experience walking downhill in the midst of the morning glory that causes the sunshine when it leaks through the leaves. or maybe while he's pounding into you and he looks into your eyes and you shake while you cover his body with the sheet so he doesn't feel the shivers outside the room. or maybe when the world outside comes crashing and you're still inside in the safest place you can find, hiding in the soft rolling murmur of strangers standing outside coffee shops. have you ever thought how our days can be plagued of these small scale successes, that can only give us hope when someone asks, "have you ever thought why you're still doing this?"

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