And poor love is the scapegoat...

what is it about the eyes?

is it because it moves? 

looking over there, then there, and always the possibility of it looking right at you.. two worlds connecting... you not being alone anymore... you being recoginized! You exist!

... just as the eye turns away from you again... and you are left alone again... and your eyes start wandering again...

Why can't we be like a tree? happy just being, or better, just a stone, that not a flower offers...

what is it about being alive?

really the living dead! not content with being one with the universe, not wanting to only focus on oneself and being labeled a narcissist... 

what is it about being alone?

isn't it that the meaning of my existance is my aloneness? that I can only exist if I am separate from everything else, and that I am in fact defined by you? by a kind of lack?  

And there goes my eye again... 

And poor love is the scapegoat...