se7en

sometimes you search for words to play around with, some words are over-used, some skip happily over your mind as you try to reach over and grasp hold of a semblence of a way by which to convey your meaning. at times, words fail, they are pointless, they fail between the barriers between articulation and conveyance of a specific meaning.

i'd never thought of you that way, if only you could hear, not just hear but also listen, hearing and listening akin to seeing and searching for the meaning, meaning the elusive character that eludes our grasp everytime.

we spend our lives searching, often, for that which is in front of us.

and when was there a need for me? how did this need arise and from where did it stem from? creation of reasons, creation of needy reasons, this is all getting too blatant.

cremation of you.

If you can't make your mind up,
We'll never get started.
And I don't wanna wind up
Being parted, broken-hearted.
So if you really love me,
Say yes.
But if you don't, dear, confess.
And please don't tell me
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps,
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps,
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
by cake.

but the lyrics to the song bring to mind some half-past-six-long-gone jewellery ad and some girl in a black/grey smocked tunic dancing around - was it so?
and reeks of pathetictism. if there were only such a word.

so perhaps? not, please.