so i wrote today

2003-01-15, 8:47 p.m.

isnt it me who will become even more of a stranger when I roll the dice?

will i become too detached when i take in that voice that cries for change, wrap it in clothes with barbed wire and make it bleed all over my perceptions.

when i walk away from the room with angels and beautiful arms wrapped around me and the floor is like hot chocolate, making these feet sting, what is it in the hall?

i am reaching so deep for something that only i am real right now, and maybe we were all given the same test question and we are to afraid to look at the paper of the person next to you.

remembering that baby prophit and i am wondering "what does he dream when he is asleep in his mothers arms"

eyes deepen and this room could fit ten thousand words each with fuzzy edges prickly on everyones skin is there anyone who is tickled by this? is anyone seeing my hair sweeping the paper, over my eyes brown branches growing down towards the table.

the pencil is digging deeper like it trying to write six words on a thousand notebooks. i am telling myself that i am on to something, this cant be random brain firings or synapses and little bits of hollywood plastic, is this girl next to me here to raise questions or to get a letter and a number.

What do you write audrey, in those hidden lines with graphite smears and also on those grey lines, swivling on your brain and they are heavey, htey have to be, what pedestrains are on your journal sidewalk, cause id love to kiss the women and shake hands with the men.

Break fire into a million pieces, sprinkle it onto my brain and keep taunting me:

if the doors of perception were cleansed then everything would appear as it is- infinite

- William Blake

doors and doors with white washed walls to keep you from asking questions, keep away red so we stay seated instead of yelling. and please keep us working on the insecurities so we feel stranded. Where is the end of this hall? with luminescent rays clipping your fingers and sticking like fishing nets to the longitude of the timid globes in your eyes. when i turn around i realize that mayb ei should start walking untill i am 60 and spent. maybe I NEED the enlightened buddha, or our lord nd savior to give me peace. after all, how many people in recorded history have attained the athiest nirvana?

if i cleanse that door then will i be gone too?will i make brail marks on the surface of the sun and burn away when night falls? will i burn away when my dream state has ended?

walked with my friend today/ talked with him that voice that voice little voice with pointed words that prick the walls and they push my skin until i feel fully mapped by my own charters. talked and saw cnnection with ultimate brilliance, the way i tried all day, and thank you Andy for reading part of the map.

walked back and i watched the gold on the black of telephone wires, walked back and smelled that i was less there than here, and oh is it friday?