(no subject)
I'm back. Reverted. It's not an inability to sleep, it's an inability to desire it. A feeling that there's something better to do. Or that it's a waste. So I spend my hours doing nothing. Staring and thinking to the music. Soon I'll be staring into the flames again. Already I want to. Emptying my mind, driving out the sentience like a devil from the possessed. And I will be the dispossessed. No sentience. No thoughts. Just the glazed, staring emptiness. Endlessly, for hours. And this is what my mind wants.
My eyes burn in their sockets. Water. My sleeping hours have been spent thinking. My waking hours: mindless. Equivalent. Equally responsive.
My eyes burn in their sockets. Water. My sleeping hours have been spent thinking. My waking hours: mindless. Equivalent. Equally responsive.