同路人

Wandering, wandering, through a hundred thirsty summers, through a thousand harsh winters. Being alone is normal, pairing is rare; sex is abundant, love is scarce. But every morn and every night, have u ever wondered why the latter ones, always the latter ones, feel more special, more real, more important?

'Sometimes,somewhere, I'd like more than this.' The waves come and go, time runs with it, people change, they change in front of us, beside us. But somehow i feel i got stuck in the past, like the most important part of me had stopped dead long ago. In that starry night, on that lost island, among the cold words on the letter? i dunno. So many could-have-beens,might-have-beens, possibilities, flash through, pass me by, ringing only infinite silence. An open wound, tearing up with the tiniest movement.

'We don't lie about who we sleep with, but who we love.' But love must not be spoken, must it? It's a taboo, a magic word that can sear reality. So whenever love is spoken out loud, we know it's a dagger, or a farewell. We've had our fair shares of goodbyes, so many that in the end we are just both too broken to do so, too broken to believe. Cos where will this get us? Where will lies get us?

Glasses broken, lights lit, people beaten down, people rising up. 'We're not gonna take it anymore.' History is happening right there, people, our people have finally spoken up, voices carry. But not us. After all we, all of us, are but a small mote of history.

I fought and i fought, but deep down i know, I'll always be a stranger in a cabin, watching fireworks from afar, searching in vain for a ghost of the love of my life in the face of ur son.