Somewhere in these moments of tangibility I loose myself to such thoughts of mental decay. To surrender value is to become immortal and yet the value one places is enough to ensure disharmony. Life and the ever moving flow of what should be and what is.
Dreams seem to devour me and yet the only time I am awake is when I dream. Free to exist in connection with myself, free to challenge the force that restrains my will.
I saw madness in the eyes of a stranger, abuse and so much damage that words themselves could not reach a person so lost. Shock treatment I thought but I lacked the facilities and the means to electricute my guest or should we call them drop ins, perhaps Kamikazi pilots fits best.
When you find those that life has stripped from normalcy do you envy them. I long to be mad for justifying the very thoughts that connect limb to limb and guide these fingers to move and mesh in a world never mine but belong to those dreamers. Dreamers that tear away the rift between the sleeping world and the waking dawn.
Am I jealous of the world or is this self loathing just another means to an end when caffine fails and the air conditioning blows out. Bukowski perhaps would say fuck this and drink a beer. Tolerate nothing and all is tolerated, become nothing and find everything, the way is just a document, a text of sweet prose and even so I cling to it within this hurricane. I beg and plead for rational. I debate whether monday is a day or merely a nightmare begging to take on the shape and form of a dream no longer violated of innocence.
These thoughts dribble across my mind and I want more, frustration consumes me with this infant like understanding and I am lost here. Returning to work seems so unnecessary but again this is a dream I call my life.
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