unspecified
…or something like that. i look toward the real and tangible senses of what i remembered as a young boy on the farm with the crows as my friends. summers passed in the fields and farms. i always wandered, looking for answers to my questions about life and happiness. what were we doing? would [some]things come alive, become [some]thing, or would we simply end up in the warp that we had forgotten — becoming the things we hated most, falling to and making decisions because the paths we laid for ourselves dictated as such?
the weeds got taller, corn husks scratched my calves and the sun beat down on me and my friends as we danced in the fields, on the farms. i asked the crows, what was this masquerade we were attending? not necessarily even attending anymore, but also commending, orchestrating? when did life become so complex that we forgot to live it? absurdities found their way quickly through my questions. i laid quietly with the crows, my friends. we played in the grass and forgot about everything for a moment.
i awoke from the dream in tears and looked around. we were sitting in circles — all of us, every last human on earth. none of us knew what was going on — almost like a giant game of duck-duck-goose.
how easy it is to lose yourself when you barely know who you are.