weighted

2003-09-26, 11:48 p.m.

when the sounds collide, (or perhaps just melt together like cheap plastic in the sun) they have a smell and an anthem that keeps me awake all night. tick//click//chirp///c/i/r/h/l/c/p

but again, the eyes weigh down low, the only difference is that now i can close them with someone laying down with me. for all our life we come to the same conclusion nightly; timelines have an ending, with ourselves and the day simultaneously sputtering to a halt. now i have not one set of eyes, but two (one set is not my own, but we share dreams of walking in the sky or laying in a bed made of red feathers and rain clouds), and one day becomes two variations; oh this is what it must feel like for X and Y to finally meet on the lines of a graph!

i want to achieve the most from every little thing i do, i want to paint and i want to think like i might burst into smoke that stains the white walls. i want to feel math in my veins, i want to play golf in the Elysian fields. focusing is the key, but i cannot focus, i cannot leave behind one of the interests like a wounded soldier. i return from the battle with seven war torn men, none of whom will have the effect that they could in the real world; instead they are half of their aspirations. moments for change are inevitable, this is why we procrastinate.

i want to fall asleep with the sounds slipping off my tastebud,"this is where life becomes images beyond reality".