i start something. that i move forward. today is the day that i decide that i love writing again, that i commit to writing again, that now is the day for the final decision, that i finally write it, that book about me that makes no sense and all the sense in the world all the sense for moving forward that I need right now
if i am going to read i have to read for something, for writing, for talk, for connecting with others who are thinking about it too. without the expression of this bottled up something it is becoming a dead lead weight in me draining me drowning me unexpectedly
i never did expect to feel this way, going numb, feeling dumb, feeling abandoned.
ectomorphing endomorphs burn paper for warmth in asylum beds while wondering where their mothers are no one to help you now the white walls scream not like there ever was
5.12.2007
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