Jan2510
This path which I walk, inside of it my mind. I traveled for some time to reach a destination, but it was nowhere to be found-
Gone, I was, the next second seeing me nulled.
Repeat what you said, I say. Repeat it. Repeat it until it becomes the truth. Feed it to others. When they vomit your words, make them stick them into other's mouths and ears. Make the world remember what you lied.
One word at a time.
All around her, entangled, roped, attacked by, swarmed by, resides in, destroyed by, would die for, vines of the long and reaching truth, falling around you when all else becomes a question. Vines.
Over a broad surface, with a great and powerful hammer. The paint spreads, the voice dies out, all that is left is the masterpiece. Once cruel and vicious, now a harmony of disaster.
To Bjork. All my life, I thought of her as a hysterical author, someone who thinks she is special. But at some point I lost that little part of me that was specialized in stereotypes and judgement. More open now. Life is to be opened up.
I'm blasted as fuck, destroyed, I'm fucking zapped. So destroyed, but all of this in a most positive way, I'm stoned, dead, pitied, at peace, forever lying on a bed of nails, only waiting for tomorrow's rust. Thank you.
Would I call myself one? Am I weak when facing my own choices, my own life. Asking questions, only that. That's everything I know, questions, phrases, just words, void of true meaning, nothing to be gained from writing like this. A question again; should I have something to gain?
A conjurer of cheap tricks is what first comes to mind, the allegations of Mr. Baggins. But, as Gandalf told him, he is not one, nor does he wish to be. Conjured to the dreams of everyday men and women, of hopes, conjured up a potion for the sleepless.
Knocked out at the moment, destroyed by my own will. What knocked me out? A last question, before closing my eyes does away with the problem. An aberration I have become, stranded on the shores of insanity, only a small rope holding me together. Holding me to the other shore.
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writing since 2013 · 44 entries · 39 days shown up
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the words Jan2510 reaches for
wordmindthinkingmomentnowdestroyedthoughtssecondappliedwritingalreadyhabittruebabytruthending