Conversing Has Its Flaws...

I held on to a trap, interlaced my spirit with a nothingness. Possession never had been worse to taste, though my eyes returned now and then to that rough limit of our minds, logic... And though I've made my everything out of a small piece of cardboard, I held on tight to a trap, wishing it would be an exit. But no gap leads to light, for it goes down, down, until the down turns into up. Earth stands against my efforts too.

And though I'd like to pour you another cup of tea, I'm afraid we're out of sugar. Will you mind as much as I would?

I guess, or better yet, I know, that we are souls with a clear destination. But a road is a road, there are patches one needs to level before stepping onto them. Insane, yes, to think that one can tighten the strings of the instrument without ripping another's soul in three. But what are we without hope?
And what does hope do, after we're gone?

Forgive me, pray, if I seem to cry. Should I fetch the mint?

And if we gather what we see, then why should we stop halfway through? Can we reckon what we may not see, yet exists? For miracles take place with or without notice. Take it as a truth and you'll understand.
Sometimes the point one makes takes hold of everybody, yet apart from being so serious, blinding or ignorant, it has nothing to support the rules it induces. So instead of making, doing, participating, competing, winning our place among our lies, had we not better forget about ourselves?

Yes, it appears that the weather has changed. So quick, I dare say! Have you come here by coach? Then I shall have my own got ready for your leave. Only let me know when I've tired you enough.

And each of us has their place bedside, and the right to hope the challenges cure themselves... Why then do we sigh relieved when they fade? Is there no remorse whatsoever? That a greater height could have been touched with the tip of our fingers, has it no meaning alongside our cares? Think of the strength resulted from such efforts...

Yet I'm afraid I've been a terrible bore; should you want to go, I cannot keep you from doing so.

Then I bid you goodbye. You have been a lousy companion, but you shall never know that. After all, you are just a cat.