Δευτέρα, 6 Ιουλίου 2009

Κεκτημένη Ταχύτητα

I am running out of steam. I am running out of time. I have long ago ran out of tears. I want a real exit. No room is sound proof enough for me to stay. I'm speeding off to nowhere, knocking things down in the process. Following or being followed, but never walking side by side, rarely creating, hardly ever truly dealing with anything. Raising dust and rumble for nothing, a sacrifice of time and energy to a ghost I've made real. For a reason.

I can't find the exit because I don't want to leave. There's always another door for me to open, and no matter how damaged it looks, I will ignore the screaming inside. I will put on music and flap my hands up and down. This has to STOP. I can mute the music. Can I mute the thoughts?

Παρασκευή, 3 Ιουλίου 2009

Have I gone too far, in my mind, Brett?












I'm sorry, I was alone with my thoughts. And they deteriorated (like they always do) to the point of imagining what I would do to shock others, and mostly myself. Totally ignoring the fact that I will NOT do these things, not the way I imagine them at least. Pointless, circular wanderings that occupy my mind, sever my touch with reality and incorporate themselves to my ever-lingering world of disgust.

What am I? A poster child for the disaffected and the reality-intolerant? Huh? And, how, exactly, do I escape from escaping?