матвей кайнер.
laughs but is really sad inside.
23.07.2015 в 18:15
Пишет сам себе тайлер:

a forest poem
man of achievements never attained
man of promises never fulfilled
man of dreams never been true.

i just want to talk because i want to talk (no, i don't want to speak (to any of you, to any of me) i don't want to say (anything to anyone) nether to assume nor presume) no i don't want to talk

why should be a reason to want to talk
why should be a reason to want
why should be a reason
why should be

why should i be?

no, i don't want to be. neither i want to become.

don't want to choose who to become.

so many of alias, profiles unfilled. what is your name? what is your age? what is your profession? what is your attitude to life?

diane, 20, student and part-time worker, hopeless and nonchalant.
tyler, 34, huge boss and it-developer, reactionary and flexible.
christine, 16, prestigious arts college attendee, excited and ambitious.
mark, 67, retired international affairs functionary, fatigued but satisfied.

lots of you, lots, countless, uncountable.

change them like you change your clothes when coming home. change them like masks on a masquerade, like second, third, -th skins, like wallpapers on your phone.

change them and get lost.

the best way to hide a tree is to go to a forest.
the best way to hide yourself from yourself is to create another self.

let's say it's a forest. the forest of selves.

name it. its name may be your id; gotta be easier to identify the forest of yourselves among the forests of otherselves.
they ask your name; tell them the one on your id card. don't be afraid; its yours. it was given to you. use it.

but inside you are the forest.
don't tell them about the forest.

hide the forest.
get lost in your forest.

let one of the trees choose it for you. today you are this tree, tomorrow you are another one.
so many trees; you carry this forest through your lifetime. what tree to be? what life to live? you don't know.

because you have never been brave enough to choose the tree to be. those trees, each of those so uncomplete, so insufficient, so imperfect, and you want to be the perfect tree.
and you choose to burn them all. set the fire. watch it eating your forest, like darkness eats the light at the end of the day.
oh, you are crying. why are you crying? your forest is burnt to ashes. your life is now ashes.

but was there any?

those trees are not true.
those trees are not you.
you are not a forest.

who are you?

'i don't know. once i was a tree.'

but then you were another tree, and yet another tree, round and round.

'i'm lost.'

let's assume you are lost. are you? oh, what a pity.
shall we come home? take my hand. let's walk you through. you are so lost, so pitiful, so poor. so hesitant about what your life should be.
why you are crying now? you wait me to tell who are you, don't you?

like a fretful child, you want others to give you the answers like ready meals.

what a fool are you.
now you should start again.

what you are going to do, little poor heap of ashes?

what you're gonna do?

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