You believe in what nobody else does
In your mind theres no time and a constant buzz
So disregard the master plan
It’s a disaster man you better ride it out

I can see it all in your eyes
Your future fades, your minutes are few
When the angels make contact with you

You believe in what nobody else does
And things ain’t the way they was
A fool like you is a freak to me
It’s unique to me, what you seek to see

I can see it all in your eyes
Your future fades, your minutes are few
When the angels make contact with you

I’ve seen the future isn’t pretty
Killer instinct, love a surprise
Make a stop, build a fire
Hold you breathe, cover your eyes
The tides are turning crimson
Nightfall growing like a cancer
Feeding on your broken body
Isolations not the answer
Listen what the wind says softly
Sound of traffic, smells like paper
Kisses on your worried eyelids
Sleepless nights turn into vapor
Like a dream and as the crow flies
Must reject the pain your trapped in
Give me all your hard earned beauty
Now I’ll tell you what will happen

Your day will fade and your thoughts will jade
And you’ll wake up in the middle of a dream
Coming up on hard luck, with a moment of silence
And no time to kill, no reason to care
Beware

I can see it all in your eyes
Your future for a dime, anytime
I can see is all in your eyes
Your future for a dime, anytime
I can see it all in your eyes
Your future for a dime, anytime
Your future fades, your minutes are few
When the angels make contact
[When Angels Make Contact - Matt Mays]

So what if she wakes late on weekends, at least she waits until after noon to pour her first drink. At least she cleans the litter box and and does the dishes from the night before before she settles into her chair with her drink and her book. This is all she wants, really. Time to do a little escapism into the realms of fantasy, time to be creative. It seems nowadays she needs more time that usual to unwind from the trial of the week: work. She used to like it, but when the addition of more responsibilities the joy has gone out of it and it’s become one giant demand of her resources. The status of her relationships have suffered recently and that has also stressed her out. By the time saturday rolls around she is exhausted.

She has to take time to think. It takes more time now but she thinks she can answer his question. He can’t get her out of his mind because enough time has passed for things to become idealised, and ideals are hard to live up to; hard to destroy. They never had enough time for things to pass from perfect into the mediocre that marks most relationships. All either of them have left is the passion and the tragedy. A sense of unfinished business. She ponders why this is; how it’s nearly impossible to lay the whole thing to rest. Maybe even how it might be best the way it is. Human frailty at its best. She sips and sighs. She knows that reality has moved them too far apart for anything to happen between them; they have both moved on. But there is a part - and she closes her eyes when she thinks this: there is a part of each of them that exists, perhaps in another reality, together. She cannot deny their affect on each other and she likes this thought, tucks it away to examine later. For now, she thinks it might be enough that they are a part of each others lives, whether they speak or not. They are part of each other because their time together helped forge who they are now. That kind of history makes thier current partners uncomfortable because they can’t live up to the tempestuous nature of what happened during said history. Not that either of them expect thier partners to even try. She respects the others enough to leave it alone, even though, like him, she feels a desire, now and then to reconnect. To re-examine, to maybe even make sense of all that happened… and so she writes. And writes….

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 7th, 2009 at 10:24 am and is filed under Fiction, fiction maybe. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.