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Mind Cacophony
I wonder if I can touch the wall? Spinning faster and faster, everything on the walls bleeds into and becomes the walls. I think the texture that of pudding or latex paint. I really want to touch it. I want to dip my finger into this wall of warping, morphing, rainbow colors. Would I drown in it? Would it suck my hand, arm, then whole body in?
Is the room spinning? Or am I spinning. And the big question...does it really matter which is which.
Cacophony...the sounds I hear....cacophony. Who ever made up that word really knew what he or she (or it) was talking about. If I made a word for what I am hearing it would be similar. Like a hundred birds singing, echoing, angel song. Filling me with a warmth just hot enough to turn my brain into a liquid mass of stinking gel.
Twisting, turning, flipping, flopping, wincing, whining, whispering, yelling inside out...straight out of my mind.
Silence, shhhhhhh. My room is speaking to me. It's telling me I am damned. Damned and full of melody and comedy. Damned for being born at all. That just my birth screwed the balance of this entire earth.
My heart beats with the blackness of a million blown out candles. That made NO freaking sense at all.
I am not a bad person. Who the hell does this room think it is talking to? I will burn it to the grown. I will tear every wall down...fuck this room.
I start to weep, not cry, but weep. Endless buckets of salt water that I some how no doubt stole from the ocean. My heart is beating waaayyy too fast. It feels as though it is trying to break free of this ragged shell of a body. This useless excuse of a walking, talking, shitting machine. Brainless in every fashion. Fertilizer, I might be good at that. Being fertilizer. But I'm afraid it pays below minimum wage.
Sitting here putting this day on paper I wonder if I burn it now, today would have not existed, and I can start again from yesterday. Then again yesterday sucked just as bad. The colors just weren't as bright, and the sound not as loud. AND the celestial pancake I attempted to eat was just a little sweeter.
I think I'm having a heart attack!
Blurred encounters of a vivid kind. I call my brain the room. Or is it The Room? Filled with anabolic cockroaches, dressed to kill. Packed with guns full of micro shit pebbles...fully automatic and ready to roll. Get it, roll?
There are others in here as well. Let us not forget Erik von Dontrusanotha, he's always here running his mouth, every second of every day. A little mouth, with two big fly eyes, and tiny little legs, running in perpetual circles. Always going somewhere, but never ending up anywhere.
Wow, how long have I been writing? It doesn't look like much, but it seems like forever. Is this the meaning of "forever and a day"?
Blue light shines so bright the day burns into my soul, you know. My eyes flicker open to realize what I have realized.
Last edited by rmestre : 02-19-2008 at 03:25 PM.
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