sleep sans the sleeping partOh my.....
Holy hordes of psychotropic crayon armies and their variegated raynebough transmutations....i've fallen into an insomnia riddled sea of random swervies.
My mind succombs gently to this "delerium state" that accompanies insomnia...
I'm looking down at this keyboard, all these letters, numbers, symbols, staring back at me....and I punch them in the face and say "EXPRESS MY THOUGHTS! MAKE WORDS!" My keys are depressed from constant badgerings.
Basically, I'm infested...the blurry mites of sleeplessness are cracking my skull open with heavy, heavy clubs...my eyelids react accordingly....they fall down and...seem to run across the computer desk screaming, "OMIGOSH WE IS FREE, TO THA HILLZ!" And they yell this far too loud, I mean, they're inches apart...I blink...realising that, despite the blurry mitees great efforts, those lids remain attached, I can still hear them though, planning their inevitable escape.
Suddenly, without warning, and rather unexpectedly, a river of redundance bursts through the blinds, and I swear I heard it. It happened. I look over. Blinds intact. Crap. I'm gone....so far gone. Hours and counting...some jams would help ease me to slumber, probably about as much as a meteor to the cranium...I'll try...
I open up the ceedee tray, take out Incubus's "S.C.I.E.N.C.E" (I ponder what it stands for) and slip in Pink Floyd's "The Division Bell" and wish the lights were off. I turned them off, on my way to the switch I saw a foot on the ground, calf down...just chilling out casually.
Ah, the first few piano notes of Cluster One echo through my head space. I've alienated myself. No one understands me actually. Well, everyone thinks that way, and most people have the right, and who am I to even think I can think about thinking anything about myself. I don't know myself. I haven't met myself yet, but I will. He's out there.
He is out there somewhere, admiring the stars through an observatory in the desert, peering off into space through his telescope...knowing that his spirit and mind reach as far as he sees and beyond...he is out there, and he knows himself...'
Or he's probably just asleep.
Awestruck
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"Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead." - Charles Bukowski
FORGIVE ME... I WAS RAISED BY WOLVES.
//no charisma for the beast//
--
When there is no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth...
The Manhunt Series: [link]
The Endless Series: [link]
Brightened my day!
...as sad as that is. XD
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"Oh, the media monkies and their junkie junkies will invite you to the plastic pantomine. Throw their invites away!"
--
imagine your brain as a canister filled with ink. yeah, now think of your body as the pen where the ink resides. fuse the two. kapow! what are you now? you're the human magic marker, won't you please surprise my eyes?
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"Oh, the media monkies and their junkie junkies will invite you to the plastic pantomine. Throw their invites away!"
--
if i were such a ghost, i'd stand so close to you
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imagine your brain as a canister filled with ink. yeah, now think of your body as the pen where the ink resides. fuse the two. kapow! what are you now? you're the human magic marker, won't you please surprise my eyes?
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