Eviscerate Your Fragile Frame... and Spill It Out In Ragged Form
A thousand different versions of... myself. Me. I find myself tirelessly trying to embark on a new moment in my life. A new conquest... a new horizon. But then I remember that the horizon is an illusionary line which recedes as you approach it. And I am undone. I have exhausted all formal efforts to succeed... now I'm am contemplating the dirty ones. The low end, secretive ones. But I am not that person. I could never know that type of life, and be able to wake up with myself in the morning... look in the mirror and smile. Of course I don't look in the mirror and smile anyway, but I suppose this is besides the point. I am a different person. A boring person. A quiet and reserved person. My original personality has been stolen from me by hard nights, long days... endless contemplation. I had a case of chronic growing up and it has made me boring and listless. I am frozen in front of television sets, or else befouling myself in my subservient role at work. Just put yourself in my new shoes, and see that I do what I do. If only. If only Mercer could show me how. If only I could again become that happy siren... that thrill-seeking explorer. If only someone... anyone could find me again. Fingers crossed.
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