I invented a mechanism in my head to learn how to ration emotions. It helped me do things I had no desire to do.
I gave the voice in my head a name. That’s probably where all my troubles began.
How much have I let pass me by? That much to lose?
The stale heat keeps the jelly in its bone helmet from doing much “thinking”. This isn’t even compulsive scribbling. It’s just nonsense.
Someone else’s packet of cigarettes is nearly empty. The nosebleed came on without warning. And the silent scream was just the grinding of teeth.
I want to be weak and childish — lose myself and leave the consequences untouched. At least, the part of me that always thought itself the better version does.
Every day I watch people swallow what isn’t edible. They cough, choke, and carry on. They’ve been full for ages, and there’s no glint left in their eyes. But I find far too much of myself in those pale staring eyes.
I keep catching myself with an awkward thought — use my head and finally find a way.
Another late night won’t bring ideas or inspiration. It has another strangling planned.
The whole difficulty of making a decision.. getting it through the hoop of the window opening.
It’s all fair. Songs are stitched together from dead pieces.
Making a decision. Put it off. Decide. Live.
On the frequency of a hissing radio wave, they’ll tell you about a new day.
About new feelings.
About a new you.