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no-foldings

16 Friday Jun 2017

You go to great lengths to avoid making that final cut, don’t you?

You think life is like a blue piece of paper, all uncrinkeled, don’t you.

Don’t you know by now that you cannot make other see the color you see?

How many turns you take, how many folds you make, how many mistakes you fake.

The only one you should be wrapping is you, with your sharp-edged tongue, chiding that heart that ever sweet melody that once entered the now deaf ear.

Dividing. Folding. Cutting. I know what you want. How life should be all papers, all waiting to be folded. Divided. Cut. Is this the paper life you want?

Making a hat out of paper doesn’t make it a hat. Making a paper hat doesn’t make other people see the same kind of blue. You have a hat already.

My sweetest sheep, how sharp you are, with your soft edges, rounded in squares, cutting corners in life, trying to unfold yourself until you see what your soul map says.

How the world would be different if we could wallpaper it full with empty cards, which we could fold in any way we liked, wouldn’t it?

So lost. So faded. So style. So sheep. So hard.

You continue your doing. That is less an observation than it is an imperative. It’s more of a wish, because in watching you we live, your blue becomes our see of life.

Build us that boat, in the heavenly perfection of the one Noah made, which gave the ultimate survival.

Yes. This. More.

And so sheep took over, because we drowned in a sea of tears.

And he kept folding, because that is what you do when things get rough. You smooth things out. Everything that was said, you can put on paper, give it to sheep, and he will fold it, and send it. And then it’s out… So we wrote.. ‘No empathy’.

Sheep said we heard it wrong. Did we? Did we mishear it? Sheep said the word was ’empty’.

Sheep took over. Empathy. Empty. Same thing. The only thing missing was the ah. The guttural recognition of a truth. Ah.

Sheep continued. With this kind of diligence, who needs a name.

Stay clear headed, sheep said. Write on it, write in it, put your soul in words, dip your finger in blood and write, herder. Write. Double YOU the fucking right.

You are not without empathy, sheep said. You are not empty either. You were given a piece of paper that cut you. A piece of paper that was too unwritten that it cut you blank and blue. This one I showed you how to handle, choose your color in life and fold everything that needs folding. And then send it. Out.

Address it.

And then send it.

But it’s your decision. Your color..

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