Is it a matter of being comfortable, or a matter of making excuses? I am not sure if the way I perceive would be anything that brings interest. I know I am not jumping to throw my opinion in the ring. I mostly sit back and watch and contemplate as each moment passes before me. I like to play out scenarios of what ifs and maybes and how comes of some sort or another. Perhaps just letting things be and allowing free flow is a matter of therapeutic consoling.
I am only generic in the ways I want to be.
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I am shallow. Cold. Inattentive. I am standing there watching you get reminded about how worthless you really are. I am standing in line waiting to take the next shot. I am seeing objects where faces should be. I am getting enjoyment out of this process. I am soaking in the anguish. I am rolling in the rapture. I only want the worst for what could be. I want to laugh as limbs get taken each moment. Some glass spread about. Some explosions off in the distance. I want to reach in a pull a warm heaping of self. Hold it high above. Drip. Drip. I am letting the sun dry you out. I am beating myself over river beds. Over rocks molded smooth by the passing of time. By the repeat of sky to air to ground to exhaust. I cannot look you in the eye. I can only sit here and run my fingers through my years of guilt. Through my years of stepping over the remains. You no longer exist. I no longer exist. With each time a thread of me goes by.
– – –
Its only been a week or so…yet lifetimes seem like they have come and gone. Around day one I was working at a desk, the lighting above, the smell of cheap perfume, the nonstop chatter of that bitch. If only I could drown myself in this cup of steaming shit we call coffee. Wake me up. WAKE ME UP! It never worked quite well. At day two I was flying looking down upon trees upon trees. A lake. An open field. A herd of cattle. Birds fluttering about. Those fucking birds. I can’t wait to land and start taking shots at them. I paid a pretty penny to join this expedition. Prostitutes and endangered species, that’s what I’m after.