to care so easy

i'm am never clever enough to know what to do with myself between six and seven in the morning. i pause to watch as the airplanes quietly leave the city, and i wonder small hopeless facts like how high could they possibly fly? something which makes their leaving easier to grasp. "thirty thousand feet and counting" the pilot whispers as he sips his cold coffee and levels the wings, and fuck him for encouraging that distance. he watches the aircraft flight control systems and nods between aileron readings and throttle controls, an observing bundle of organs to insure the promise of your safety. "we should love again!" says the heart as it ignores the bleakness of a rainy tarmac. it rallies the blood and rallies the soul, all for another massacre - and what is the brain to say to that? "I'm sorry soul, I'm sorry heart, they've killed all your men, they've killed your troops... you've got nothing left, there is nothing more". the comforting hand of those who can so badly hurt us turns me on and i'll ignore those who care for the confused and apathetic. we're not about what movies we like, the tattoos we wear, an ability to kickflip the school steps, or how well we know the finite details of each others lives. we're residents of a bizarre world that emphasizes understanding while our melancholic curiosity searches out the intangible.