I don't mean to be scared, but it does scare me. All of those yes-sir-blackouts and three-in-the-morning free for all's filled with hatred and red hats. Not to mention hating reds, the volga version, not the crowley field version. Alas I joke. But to throw in humor with something so serious almost eats at me. The romanticizing effort goes only so far when your eye is dry. Of course, I brought this upon myself, an earlier lunch, a no-name, a delicious treat lead into constant, constant, sitting and thinking. No, I find myself being a coward, having conversations with myself, eating at me again and again and again, constantly fearing some unknown creature to sing me an opera. "Creature", are you listening? But not the one YOU think I am, the other one, its HIM isn't it, he finally wants to know what the f*** I've been doing for the last 21 years; all those thoughts, jokes, constant shuffling of mindsets and ideologies. It can't be, I would have seen HIM or HER eat at the cafeteria or around somehow in this town. So many people know my secret. Its rough to figure it out for myself though. Silence is 'golden'. Ne govoryu - zolotoy. Funny little phrase, I probably have it wrong somewhere since music plays over and over in my head, in my body, even outside in the night sky. Conscious stars try and get the moon to read every once in a while. I finally got to the reading they suggested, yet I refuse their teachings. I don't want to find it the same place other people do, I want to be different about it. Everyone knows that. So why the...damnit, why can I not even see outside. Fuck these f***in' walls, this artificial light. I've never been a big fan of you. Stems from the time...oh wait, jesus, it goes all the way back to then does it not?

Yea, it does. Yes, it does. Yay! Don't be happy you sad, sad fool, you had a chance. Sometimes people help out each other and it comes out spectacular, other times (I don't know why this is so vague) my eyes can't see a damn thing and I live in a fog inside my head (on accident I typed god instead of fog, but of course I typed fog instead because that might have just gotten a little weird without my knowledge, at least conscious knowledge.)

My digression has led to another thought process entirely. My whole point has been denied, destroyed, delivered (elsewhere), diminished. A long time ago I was not right, tonight I am right, tonight I am not right, tonight other people see right and not right, not necessarily wrong, because no one in my book is wrong. My book, the book of what? C'mon, these rants last ten minutes, eat out the eyes of anyone not reading it and then return back to the place inside the ear where it belongs. Rats! I apologize for anyone reading this to try and find something in it. This is a cattle prod. This goes nowhere and everywhere in two seconds but comes back the other way a little slower because of some cold weather approaching from an angry Tuesday.














Nothing. Sleep deprived. Angry. Myself. I just need sleep. No more of this bull-ish nonsense of pulling my hair out because I am not creative. This doesn't exist.