love is hell, hell is love

My toes combing the cold sands of desolate lands in search of pretty sea shells to fill my tiny pockets; a pursuit as futile as filling a cracked bucket with water. the pockets on this bathing suit of mine are so small that they're only good for momentarilly possessing that which strikes the kid in me as interesting; but everything eventually gets dropped along the way. Childlike is the enthusiasm for possession that brings a boy to steal every pretty thing that catches his eye; so too is the tragic forgetfullness that accompanies time for he becomes a spoiled boy with too many toys-so he shall remain for as long as he allows himself to succumb to the temptation of leading a burning life; a life led perpetually spinning round and round on a carousel at some sombre carnival; sad organ music and always raining all the time.
Loneliness lies beneath the surface of every sigh this city tries to keep unnoticed-its everywhere and underneath everything; much like the inexpressible awareness one has when in a different city-what it means to feel the frameworks which surround us; one can never capture in an expression what the big meanings mean, yet we possess the complexity of these meanings by embodying them in our deepest pits prior to intelligibility and expressibilty...loneliness has no skeleton so I let her share mine with me.
The face of my summer starts to show its shadow in a deeper shade of black-working hard will make a man out of you, but now I know I won't have a real job..does that mean that I'll become the monster that love will always makes out of me; or born anew into some new place. But these streets have seen the advertisements for this face for years now, after the show's many finales with cast and crew re-dispersing out and into the atmosphere without even the flyers having ever been looked upon; covered alsmot immediately by somebody else with a need to shine. I foresee what the months that stretch ahead of me will look like-if working hard will make a man out of you and loving will make a monster out of me, then what does loneliness make of you?...As I walk along the sidewalk, I reach into my back pocket and grasp what feels like the ridges of a seashell; a half smile comes to my lips in sadness in thoughts of the day that Hannah spent on the beach and she came back with presents specifically for me-"Here! Take this with you and I'll see you tomorrow!..? Will we?!" Cordelia and Hannah, the angels of my soul that the devil in me had to drown; I kill you only to miss you with every step; every present tense in awareness of your infinite absence-you are gone, the sombre carousel rolls along. I take the shell from my back pocket and present it before my eyes to see the green of nothing other than a beer cap; this is the life I choose to lead my Cordelia; I do not know why exactly, but perhaps its really just some small part of me that can never commit to a future of adult living,
I will always remain a kid cramming shells into his tiny pockets despite how useless I know this treasure hunt to be when this basket of mine can only hold so little-its the only kind of striving thats ever made sense to me; so thats who I am always; the one who wished for love and lost his mind upon having his heart broken-perpetually searching for flowers in the cracks of the rocks that stretch out and into the water at the beach; flowers to bring to a beloved that has long since passed or had never even loved me back; heartbroken and insane over some one and only he never even knew. When a man passes to tell me that the flowers do not bloom in these parts anymore and that they haven't for years-I hear his words but laugh at his distrust for mother nature-tragic is the faith of the mad man who believes in his heart that soon he will possess the impossible in his hands.