usually i seek to feel more intensely, to attain heights, become more animate, stay up late, alert always, louder noise, technicolour. all i want tonight is removal, escape by suction into a vacuum. when i think about vacuum i think of the shrinking and pulling into a small space but in fact in a vacuum one would silently stretch so thin there was none of you and all of you.
life feels dull but i want it more so a sleep we can fall dead into a cold to freeze the blood in our veins a warmth to lull and dull us, something anything to soothe us so i no longer know that raw anger of wound laid bare to desert winds - salves she rubs on it scratch the sandstorm in. this is so wrong so wrong why do we go on.
debussy's my new opium, see how cultured i've become and i'm turning into my mother who in white floor length dressing gown guards the early morning hours of our home. no matter how much exercise i take my brain's still awake as the clock ticks on past twelve. this body complains and stream's of consciousness are bitter, soured. no aspiration to forgotten beauty content to sit in this worldly shit playing rhymes as they file in lines to the wall. their sacrifice my human right to affordable opiates, smother our nerves some more. cells line uterus walls and we rejoice when another is born into this captivity?
