playing in each other's pocket

2009-10-23 - 2:15 a.m.

Oh bed, I avoid you at night and in the morning I struggle to summon the motivation to leave. The submissiveness to forgetting one after the other has been forcefully counterattacked by a handful of failed efforts. Stubbornness, doubt, frustration, rage, and even the debate of despair. Silently frantic again, it seems somewhat ironic that the thought of lose cools the skeptical companion loitering at the back of my mind. A realization that if circumstances were to cease, life wouldn't continue in the same rhythm. Once I saw a talented drummer speaking in a interview of how he was a slave to the pocket, no matter how good someone thought they were or played, if they don't play in the pocket the meaning is forfeited. Similarly, after any significant loss, life seems to have an irregular flow about it. One that requires time to adapt to. Currently I am hoping that the rhythm of my life is the proper one for this girl, at least for a short while so that I can actually provide some sort of meaning into another's pocket.

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