Days pass like a superfluous liquid, as if the existence of yesterday is nothing but a false memory. Inside the sleeping dreams and the waking dreams, each and every one of them converges into the other, forming a nebulous cloud of sparkling fragments of space and time. My cruelest actions of yesterday are but a mere memory of a dream, and yesterday is as nonexistent as the dream of a month ago.
Faces shift, eyes shift. I remember the face of one on the head of another person their eyes, noses, mouths, all of them just barely visible at a steep angle in the rear view.
I don’t know what day it is. I know it has a number, I know it has a name. But I don’t know when I am. And time, with space, gets me lost in the dreamed valley. The mixed strands, and then the fucking blisters again, inflating through my skin, ratchet and itching. God, how much it itches.
I don’t want to eat today. It’s 14:41. There is food, but I don’t want it. I don’t want any food. I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to work. I stepped out of my bed and, God, that fucking itching again.
Let me ask you something: if I were to die, would you put a camera on my rotting casket? Or would you stop me from jumping off the tenth-floor balcony of the Madison Marriott West Hotel?
Once again proving that the value of an artist is only worth something if the artist dies.
Good act. The curtain closes. The audience cheers. The joke was completed.
You end your trance. You walk to the kitchen, and you eat your fucking food.
You called them hypothetical people because part of you knows that they’re not real, and another part of you knows that they are real.
If so, why do I feel alone? Maybe not lonely I know that feeling but what I feel is being alone. Alone in my own deception, in the dark scene of myself I don’t want to accept, in the darkness from my heart I refuse to look at, at the cruelty and sorrow that inflicts with the fingers and hands holding my head, twisting it violently while I refuse to look at it, making my skin overlap and stretch impossibly, using all the strength of my muscles and bones to not stare at it, to not stare at the truth, t o not d