ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"The air was always bright this time / for a little while\" - onelinedrawing Is it my fault? Am I to blame? Apathy? Indifference? Numbness? Defeat? Nah; best to blame the coffee. It can't fight back. It sits, fills its space, liquifies my bowels, stares. It does its job, goes away, returns. It looks so sad, so happy, so content? How the hell should I know? Is it obvious now that I'm in a wierd place, my brain broken loose from the stem? My eyes, useless marbles in my head. I hardly ever need them these days, as it is. The real world is a mystery. I prefer the intangible fantasy. The ominous creatures that creep in from the peripherals when I snap my eyes open after sagging my head five or six times. What are those figures that come for me while I sleep? What do they want? Are they always present, or only when I am unconscious, unable to defend myself, to think them away? This is the price / reward of delirium. Take that to the bank and accrue interest on it. Can I be this? What I am? Flawed, real, broken; my cracks open and lending themselves to your scrutiny? Harsh light illumating what is really there, or not there, as the case may be. I'm frightened. 2:38 a.m. - 2003-12-11 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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