awkward improvised dual poem.

Obsessiforge

- Diderot Reborn -
#1
this was a poem that sort of just happened while I was talking to someone. at least...I think its a poem...

Him:
there's wisdom in sharp things
solace
beauty

Me:
reflection
distortion

Him:
escape from the moment

Me:
in a moment that doesn't exist like you want it to
but for a moment...you can fool yourself

Him:
for a few glorious seconds
your troubles disappear

Me:

and then the light shifts, and all you see is grey

Him:
all the hate, anger, channeled and slipping away

Me:
cold, unfeeling steel replaces your precious illusion

Him:
or your hated reality

Me:
its all cold in the end
cold, grey, and sharp enough to cut you if you aren't careful

Him:
isn't that the point?

Me:
no
its the edge

Him:
and edge you can't see to drive away all the things you see all too clearly
hate, anger, depression, jealousy, fear, self-loathing, it can all disapear for a few precious seconds

Me:
until you rotate around to the other side...then all you've got is another illusion
or the sins and emotions you worked so hard to suppress

Him:
aye, the demons return soon enough
the question all boils down to are the few precious minutes worth all the hassle?

Me:
only so long as you can guage the distance between yourself an the edge

Him:
why do you need to guage the distance?

Me:
so you don't get cut

Him:
but my dear fellow that's the entire point

Me:
getting cut's the point?

Him:
i think we've been talking about two different things this entire time...


and that was the end.