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Saturday, November 12, 2005

Past Psychotic Episodes...still more

Installment #3. It seems as though I'm almost out of material from "that" time. Not to worry though, I'm sure people are waiting for me to, well, shut the hell up soon enough. He he he.

Perception is a funny thing.
When we're young, we don't understand it.
When we're older, we don't want to.
When we're near death, we wish we did.
Because the way we see it is the way we live.
Look at a blind man.
To him the world is full of real smell, real sounds, and real textures, with a faint hope of real sight.
But do you see what he sees?
Because if you did, you wouldn't be doing what you're doing right now.
Don't stop.
Carry on.
Be you.
Leave me.
To be.
Till death.

My world comes crumbling down.
All that I own is dead;
My past, my present, my future.
And still I go on.
To die a thousand deaths every minute.
Only to be reborn every morning.
And face a new and more horrific day.

I don't know what truth is.
But I do know I wish it away.
It confuses me and distorts perception
Because, in a world of dreams and lies,
Truth is a vagabond wraith.

I am at a point in my life
Where every turn results in a dead-end.
But still I know that by hoping,
I create an excuse to live some more.

I see dreams remaining dreams.
I see wishes as wishes and nothing more.
This world is cruel, or so it seems,
Where what you need most, is knocking on someone else's door.

Do I have hope?
I don't know.
Have I given up yet?
I think so.
Then I'm through.
But I'm not sure.
Am I still holding on?
Yes, I just hope it gets better.
But what if it doesn't?
Then, I have no idea.
Just wait and see.
Just throw it all away.

Somethings are better left as memories.
Somethings are better left unsaid.
Still other's should stay as thoughts.
When it comes to addressing the dead.

How fickle our minds are,
When we say what we mean.

The art of conversing is dead,
In this modern world of ours.
When people hide what's to be siad
Behind lies of Babel-Towers.

When will we learn
That a clean mind makes for a clean heart.
All humanity in an urn.
To perish together, just like from the start.
So too are or lives as mysterious as the universe.

You know what? I don't quite recall what exactly was going through my mind, especially when I wrote this stuff, but I think it had a lot to do with being in the dark about the future and the whole 'where am I going and why' type of thinking. Also, and quite honestly, it seems that there was an attempt to make it sound cool. Apologies all around. Hmm...I guess it's too late in the day to ask, "What the hell were you thinking?"
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