dommid510
thread. she was hanging by a thread and if it snapped, i would lose her. She would be gone. I saw her eyes, they were large and curious. I could sense her in every way. I felt her going. She slipped. I woke up. My hands were shaking, I felt the threads in my bed sheets and sung myself to sleep.
Everything is wasteland, because everything resorts to what it was. Everything has to become dry and empty. My mind is a wasteland, but more importantly I'm a wasteland. And the words that I tell you make you dry, and make you lick your lips for water. You hate me because I'm making you a wasteland too.
Bones are what keep us strong. They keep us together. Usually people think bones are bad things, but I like them. They are white, shiny, and keep us from being like Rosie O Donnell. I think we all need to appreciate bones a little bit more. Plus, they are like the final goodbyes from our ancestors. What is more appealing than a skull?
Console, a machine, a device. Something that runs but doesn't think. That's me, flying through the days motions. Running but not thinking. I'm tired of this. Somebody take the hint, and unplug me. Or reset me. I want to start over. I want to think. I want to be something else. Please?