you sneak by, time, and all i hear is a whisper

2005-10-26, 11:18 p.m.

i took a walk to the city and i watched the streaming lights. the cars passed by and from dirt encrusted mufflers came a stagnant air to sweep across my body. this was where the filter clogged, and my thoughts begun to fuse, untill i was a mass hysteria that could spurn a riot in some other volatile youth.

once i was told that this was a jumble of words pasted onto a screen for people to frown at; contort your face because i'm just as confused at how i feel. i was offended, or put off, the way a potter stops spinning when his hands crack beyond use. now its different.
now i see this is me, a thesaurus painted neon green, then left in the basement to be eaten by a family of moths.

i learn to see the music as individual colors; i see opal when you see eggshell.
i learned to stop calling because the phone cuts out just before you get to the real dialogue.
i am learning to listen to the blood in my ears when i need plastic jesus to kneel before.

here i am now, 3 months later. ive got the same eyes that blink themselves into a coma before i fall asleep (this math is such a relief when i know so little about myself).