Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Of Peacock Feathers and Beasts
I’m listening to Radiohead’s Lucky as I spend another futile night attempting to complete quality home work for my college courses. A dense pressure resonates upon my temples, as the reality of the task daunts me, overcoming my energy like the last right jab from a bully. Dizzy and in pain I concentrate on Thom Yorke’s voice as it registers the chorus ironically singing, “Hey man slow down…” My girl friend’s voice plays the showy feathers of which they represent while she sings in the shower. Her siren’s call is melodic and beautiful as it slowly erodes at my soul like water dashing against rocks on the shore…one day the law of attrition will win and we will break. As such, the peacock’s feathers are for nothing more than attraction, a monopolization of gregarious attention they are nothing in which we could build shelter with… for they would only wither and die if taken out of context and used for such a purpose. Loneliness…My world is a dumpster and its funny how I’m always the disposable one. These cries are merely for the blind eyes and deaf ears in which the fabric of my life is cut upon. What should I do??? Should I stay up another two hours finishing my pysc. assignments only to get four hours of sleep again or do I procrastinate even more and settle for a six hour night of rest? The latter would only infuse my weekend with even more of tangled mess in which I already have such a limited time to pick up. There’s not a soul to rescue me from this helpless feeling except a black ink Bic and some wide ruled notebooks in which I scratch my illegible mess into. Still my questions of what to do with tonight go unanswered…I guess Magical 8-balls were invented for people like me.
I’m listening to Radiohead’s Lucky as I spend another futile night attempting to complete quality home work for my college courses. A dense pressure resonates upon my temples, as the reality of the task daunts me, overcoming my energy like the last right jab from a bully. Dizzy and in pain I concentrate on Thom Yorke’s voice as it registers the chorus ironically singing, “Hey man slow down…” My girl friend’s voice plays the showy feathers of which they represent while she sings in the shower. Her siren’s call is melodic and beautiful as it slowly erodes at my soul like water dashing against rocks on the shore…one day the law of attrition will win and we will break. As such, the peacock’s feathers are for nothing more than attraction, a monopolization of gregarious attention they are nothing in which we could build shelter with… for they would only wither and die if taken out of context and used for such a purpose. Loneliness…My world is a dumpster and its funny how I’m always the disposable one. These cries are merely for the blind eyes and deaf ears in which the fabric of my life is cut upon. What should I do??? Should I stay up another two hours finishing my pysc. assignments only to get four hours of sleep again or do I procrastinate even more and settle for a six hour night of rest? The latter would only infuse my weekend with even more of tangled mess in which I already have such a limited time to pick up. There’s not a soul to rescue me from this helpless feeling except a black ink Bic and some wide ruled notebooks in which I scratch my illegible mess into. Still my questions of what to do with tonight go unanswered…I guess Magical 8-balls were invented for people like me.
# posted by Nick D @ 10:39 PM 
