The Reason

Departure strikes and sinks in the burrows beneath my skin. A week long fade of everything beautiful ends in nothing more than strange street corners at late hours where not a waking soul ventures. Street lights illuminate nothing here. Out on the streets are so many possibilities to not be alone. This is Death Cab suited.

8 Hours reminds me just how long the maps stretch along the walls and how big the bed beneath them grows. We all have living room. Border lines the space between times I didn't know and couldn't breath. I'm reminded of dreams by late night, waited, phone calls. These are my air.

With wet cheeks I regret the substantial inability to include among those dozens of tiny notes this entire thought process. That you're the part of the world that is bright. And you're the part of the world that sings. That you're the reason that while I'm where I've been before, I'm suddenly lost within my own evaporated thoughts. And, above all else in this world, that you are my love.

Now more than ever.

-Love,

Taylor J. Pridgen

The Timeline

I live at the threshold between the possible and uknown. The line daring to be crossed and tested and often redrawn within the lifestyles of those stable enough to miss it.

And should today I reach my hand out the crooked door and into the dreaming wake of a world I easily recognize as my own throughout the countless numbers of memories and universes so called dimensions swim in our minds and make fools of our eyes.
I've traveled through space a multiple time and found of things to pass that while I am ghostly aware I am scarce.
The timeline is false.

Within everything that can be accomplished with the span of a day you fix your eyes and tighten your blinders to the secret wonderments only found when exploring the adventure. To those stuck in a rut of original modernism may you remember the nostalgiac feeling of stacking blocks. Because there was more than there that you saw but don't remember.

And that while in any given moment your confidence of your ability to control your life and steer your future exists, it is lying. There is no such thing as autonomy. We are the ancestors of generations prior and prior to generation is the world around you.

If you could stop time at any particular moment. The lists of possibilities to any related action for any thought could in itself be infinite before ridiculous by concerning the logical progression of aftermath of each subsequent event. The butterfly effect creating a imaginary shockwave capable of growing and altering any level of detail in your life without you realizing it. There is a reason for everything.

And accepting that I have now written these words down somewhere intangible I am considering through literature that I might be making a difference in the world in which I have no control. I am both creating and distroying. And by my saintly heinous acts I have opened the crooked door or shaky window. I have now frozen time.