Miscalculated estimations; based on emotional expectations, sometimes on random acts of (un)thoughtfulness.
Swaying between what we desire and what we actually do.
Halfhearted actions, with no courage left to execute them thoroughly.
Choices made upon other choices.
A bitter sensation left at the end, only wanting to taste nothing different.
Words put out late hours, asking questions that could not really be answered; never intended to be asked, never intended to be met.
Calls and messages left unanswered; of non-availability.
Different roads that could be taken, never reaching a specific destination.
Choices made upon other choices.
Priorities. Motives. Incentives. Fantasies.
Matching desires or Conflicting desires? It is all the same; never meeting the end receiver. Dazed and confused on these early hours right, just right before the dawn.
Always something else. Mostly someone else.
Choices made upon other choices.
Me over you; a different you; every fucking single time.
What if I had the right to choose among a forest of wild trees, to capture what I thought was mine?
I would choose the wrongest of all; the least available; the least accessible; the most wild.
One by one I strike through every available resource of pleasure; not one rising to the occasion.
Not one meeting me half ways.
No more choices, just strange pleasures.
Twenty Ten 