once more i find myself facing an ageing clock while hours and subconscious dramas slip past me like poisons through cigarette filters. if not for the fact that i am tired i would be practicing productivity and fulfilling punctual promises. i have been away and i have been busy. i have been absently occupied with another's trivial responsibilities. spending my hours achieving another's dreams for the sake of a few slices of silver. to complain and bicker would be wasteful, for a beggar cannot choose from whose plate his next meal will be scraped from.
its funny to say that i find myself, because quite frankly i feel as lost as usual. the bed calls to my aching body and flustered mind only to be met with a corpse that will not stop thinking. cogs that will not stop turning. constantly constructing partially defrosted concepts without the resources to ever be... and in this moment of make believe and party favors the mind cannot help but turn to the mortality of its master, to the irreversible and inevitable end, and then, and then eyes refuse to close, for fear of a sleep without credits.
to sleep perchance to dream... of matadors and weaponry, of libraries and academic failure. unless of course the sun doth shine inside this depth of mine and i am gifted with thoughts of you. you as you are and you as you have never been. masquerading as another, in transparent foliage... but it is you. i recognize, i know you well, like the back of my hand. oh but how to pronounce layers of skin, meat and bone to convey memories of warm embraces?
without pausing and allowing passage to green lights of criticism one is left flooded in the reality of being awake. unfortunate, and inconvenient are these lines as they will not bring the desired result but rather the opposite. like extinguishing a flame with gasoline and broken fingers i am left burnt and inspired. left in the darkness with a senile clock i have come to call friend.