Today, I present you with fragments. Little notes and shards of ideas that had floated in my depressed head today. These sorts of things have been all I've been able to muster in the realm of creativity lately.
Anyway, here it all is...
===
It's too easy to be left
brooding. Stuck in the past.
Your past should define
who you are, but not control
it. Where's the line? What's the
difference?
This may be why I've
always been attracted to those
with a sense of carpe diem.
envy.
Is it wrong to seek out others
beacuse of what you lack in
yourself?
I don't think so.
but there is doubt.
It's you.
but it's not you.
I wonder about old voices.
Maisen.
Clive.
Aubin
and... lately... Alex.
It's really hard to find them
sometimes.
I look back, wonder where
they came from. Why they've all
gone silent.
Are we lost?
maybe writing about
them is the wrong thing
to do.
Maybe I just need to
write them.
Wednesday Night Wing Night
damns, yes.
It's story then. Or escapism.
=
I think I'm dead.
I've got to be.
Numbness. No feeling. Inability
to focus. There's no such thing as
attention. It's all gone.
So I'm dead.
Cold. Stiff. Rotting. Total
collapse.
Will something great come from my corpse?
I don't know. I'm dead.
=
It's possible, sometimes, to get
caught up in illusion.
Maybe an illusion of attraction.
Or an illusion of freedom.
Never-moving, there is a knife
cut deep into my heart. I
ask myself: 'If I pull it out,
will I die?" The answer is I
don't know.
Forlorn and lost, there's no where
to go to find yourself. But, really,
who cares?
=
Physical pain proven to fight depression.what does that tell you?
ride the wave of a romance
hit the shore of reality
fight the pain of circumstance
end up in this travesty.
Father's face is sceaming.
Screaming in blood.
Coalesce into true light.
===
special thanks to
antastra for the link.