i can not write because my thoughts are transparent. i can not get a grasp of anything going on inside of my head. there are only extremes, elation & desperation. here is up, here is down, here is alive, here is dead, floating, floating, floating around incessantly.
my dreams punish me so, flaunting my desires, then snatching them away, with the break of day.
pleasing, pleasant, perfect, eat away at my breast. slashing through the flesh of my breast, until razors reach my heart. my still beating heart is resting in the palm of a hand. my eyes, my eyes, i can not see.
i am falling. i am wreckage.
written on 2004-05-02 at 12:02 a.m.
she / lost