God turns the lights off and the sun goes out. Then we blast our music, hoping it'll last long enough that we won't have to hear ourselves think. We don't want to have to turn our eyes inside out and see what's inside. We drown out the voices inside or numb any feeling, trying to keep the echoes of the day inside for as long as possible. We don't want to go home to our evaporating souls. We don't want to have to confront the whispering shadows in the dark. We're scared of who we might see when we gaze into the mirror.
We don't know how to live at night so we either stretch the temporal joys of the day or numb the loneliness of life among the stars. The longer we avoid the silent whispers, the more challenging it will become in our future tomorrows' nights. We don't know who we've become because we're afraid of losing who we've been. We'd rather forget today than take it head on. We know tomorrow must come but until then we'll hold the breaks or drink yesterday's pleasant memories. No one can stand to be around us because when we're around us we're not even ourselves.
We talk to others to keep from having to hear ourselves think. We ask about our neighbor's life with the hopes that our own troubles will fade into the background. We desperately try to neglect ourselves but always find the same two eyes staring back at us in the mirror. "It has to come from inside," they tell us, but the irony is that they're speaking from the outside. We don't know who to believe anymore. It's easier to fall asleep than it is to feed ourselves the necessary nourishment to survive. Our motivation to survive is barely stronger than our desire to live.
We live in a dark gray hole that is far from feeling whole. "No one can make you yourself and nothing can control who you are." Still we become the trees around us. The soil we've been planted feeds us minerals or masked materials. The foul fecal fertilizer somehow nurtures our growth. The discipline we so quickly avoid knows what we need and is there to supply it. As we keep moving, it tells us that it's okay to slow down. We must slow down every now and again. We must slow down and be content to not know everything. There is hope in the distance with roots spreading close to ours.
We're growing up and down. We're spreading all around. May it be ripe, juicy fruit. Pineapples that make mouths water and satisfy not only our cravings, but the salivating mouths of our sisters and brothers. Sweet citrus nourishment; food that satisfies the cravings of the minority masses.