Sometimes I hate people...
Sometimes I come to hate people because they can't see what I am. I've gone empty, completely empty and all they see is the visual form.; my arms and legs, my face, my height and posture, the sounds that come from my throat. But I'm fucking empty. The person I was just a year ago no longer exitss; drifts spinning slowly in the other somewhere way back there. I'm a xerox of my former self. I can't abstract my own dying any longer. I am a stranger to others and to myself and I refuse to pretend that I am familiar or that I have history attached to my heels. I am glass, clear empty glass. I see the world spinning behind and through me. I see casualness and mundane effects of gestures made by constant population. I look familiar but I am a complete stranger being mistaken for my former selves. I am a stranger and I am moving. I am moving on two legs soon to be on all fours. I am no longer animal, vegetable, or mineral. I am no longer made of circuits or disks. I am no longer coded and deciphered. I am all emptiness and futility. I am an empty stranger; a carbon copy of my form. I can no longer find what I'm looking for outside of myself. It dosen't exist out there. Maybe it's only in here; inside my head. But my head is glass and eyes have stopped being cameras, the tape has run out and nobody's words can touch me. No gestures can touch me. I've been dropped into all this from another world and I can't speak your language any longer. See the signs I try to make with my hands and fingers. See the vague movements of my lips among the sheets. I'm a blank spot in a hectic civilization. I'm a dark smuge in the air that dissipates without notice. I feel like a window maybe a broken window. I am a glass human. I am a human dissappearing in rain. I am standing among all of you waving my invisible arms and hands. I am shouting my invisible words. I am getting so weary. I am growing tired. I am waving to you from here. I am crawling and looking for the aperture of complete and final emptiness. I am vibrating in isolation among you. I am screaming but it comes out like pieces of clear ice. I am signalling that the volume of all this is too high. I am waving. I am waving my hands. I am disappearing. I am disappering but not fast enough.