30. ....60 seconds, 59, 58...GO!
I am hyped up on sugar
I am nervous and weighted by the guilt of my own inactions
my own liberties and knowing that there is something
wrong, there is something about withholding,
about keeping them
alive, making them my enemy.
I feel a different person as though
I am hiding my soul, I feel as though I cannot float
my hands feel awfully small in these words in these thoughts in the black of inked
imaginings, there's violence in my imaginings
i want to be a carrier pigeon, I want to deliver myself to you
my message, my story
I want to write it, I want to live it, I want to survive it;
how do I break apart from these vows
how do I become a good person when being good means to drown
in the weight of laws and promises and do I co-operate
or do I live my own life
is it selfish, is it right
and how is it sometimes I feel I have no one I can talk to.
I write for the wind, I make for the coffins
in this realm of wires I am only that which lives in words
this matrix we cannot know
I am thoughts,
recite and recite and tell them what you are good for
what you've been taught and groomed for
there is nothing in this world you'd not know of yourself anymore
everyday is an affliction:
just an hour
Let's devote just an hour in a space where my thoughts are
free to lift up and out of me and then
another hour t
that I might just forget about bills about life about all that stuff that I could live
that I could refuse to suffocate
you just have to let the mind roam,
if you let the mind roam
3....2....1....
DONE.
