Monday, July 08, 2002

Unstoppable urge to soar.
Not like a bird.
Like me.

For the first time in a very long time, I've broken free of my life. Momentarily. Felt nothingness. Non-being. Unexistent.
Like a wisp of cotton, a whiff of mist, a hint of breeze.
There, but not.

My life's boring. Most of the time. So I buffer it with yours. And your kin. And your head.
I'm bored of me and enamoured by you. So I hold you down, pin you by the throat and pick your brains. One thought at a time.
And finally one day, you fade into the background. Become familiar, comfortable and BORING.
So I get back to re-inventing myself. And I entertain you.
The dance of the tribes. One step to the left, one leg to the right, forward and backward, tight circle, heady beat.
Inexplicably the circle breaks to allow oxygen. Vacuum. Laughing gas.

(The darkest dreams appear no more than episodes in wakelessness. Not real. Romanticised bits of deep blood satin.
How do I want to be loved? Sensibly or senselessly? Can I try both before I decide?)

I don't live here anymore. On a vacation to bluer skies.
Few more seconds, I'll plummet right back. Right now, let the world be.
If I'm happy, you must be too.