"Suicide among birds. First feeling will be the freedom, then fear... Whatever, i always want to fly anyway..."



I have been watching for quite a while
attempts to prevent way finding and destinations
getting soft loose numb and dizzy...drunk losing mobility losing voice losing care, just losing..

My face suffers and becomes the hardest to hide..my disposition and spirit is more elusive...perhaps because its never surprising..to anyone..and only honest to a few.

Or maybe because i can handle un-hallucinate everything, loose faces bad haircuts dirty clothes sounds, mostly sounds...of laughter and the undertow drone of human voices muddy slurred sometimes angelic sometimes wicked and shapeless...
I have tried at times to explain what happens to me when i sit in the corner seat or better right in the fucking middle of a fast food joint and become clean....so clean that pollution is almost inviting and pleasurable.
Then the tidal wave takes shape... rising equalizing...squaring out and filling in...growing deep and constant...almost a chant rhythmic repititive and magnetic.
voices voices voices synchronized
controlled stray
vibrations drowning the traffic
and motion
silverware on porcelain
sudden cold conditioned artifical air waves from the hidden air conditioner
And then...the girl sighed..and I couldnt place her face in that sea of flesh...only i could hear it....and it sounded to me like glass breaking...in a Hall, a Tomb, a Midnight Monastery... ...uncovered unconfronted and uncompromised.As loud as the silence it breaks.

violence.self check.silencing.
Because I knew she was there
Someone I loved in this deep, amorphous kingdom of faceless freedom-less fools....sitting on the imaginary far side of the table,watching me,worrying,wanting,holding,breathing. And she did. And i did too. Only in those few passing gestures and moments I lost my chance. lost my will. lost the touch, the connect, the will to take both of us away from this planet. I gave up. And she saw.


http://x-horizon.deviantart.com/favourites/ - David Preissels own favourites...becomes mine too...quite naturally

"The present moment, however, is unmediated by the way we tell stories—no author/authorial tricks or teases, no techniques to enhance or degrade or hide until the final act. And that's tough. When you're the Narrator. To let that compulsion go. To fail is to live perpetually in the past or the future, trapped in descriptions, in structure, interpretation. Simulacrum. Sitting on the train I'm shaken by the beauty all around me and the heaviness of leaving, projecting the writing of a letter with a fever wanting perfection"