tour

The fallacy is this: assuming that everything will eventually form a coherent and understandable whole. The belief that all these distorted and disjointed thoughts and images will somehow, someday merge into something that's quantifiable and tangible. I am many different people. I am multitudes of the same incomplete picture. And I will remain the same for as long as I'm cognitively aware. The boy who's wrapped up in books. But there is little time left for philosophy for time would be more wisely spent living and loving. Or loving and living. Whichever comes first, and whichever exudes an air of equal dependence. I am an empty vessel. Fill me up with everything you know and cherish and hold dear. For you half adore me and half forsake me. Half fill me up but by that same measure leave me half in longing. And the romantics swoon as they exclaim, half of your heart is not enough. But it is unfair! To compress the world into these little moments where we touch and kiss and rub against each other until our skin grows sore. And the bruises fade almost as fast as the memories. So leave little blue scars on my chest and on my back but never on my brain.