In an armchair

A chill out day… thinking about everything and nothing at
all. Magic surrounds me from the speakers. Empathizing with Jackie Cane.
Realizing I am Jackie Cane. Spitting out the salt… Breath in, breath out.
Loneliness is bliss and torment at the same time.

Missing the sea. Missing summer. All year round, except in
the summer. It’s not summer. Accepting my strength and fragility, both divine…
we were created perfect. Weren’t we? In His image… perfect. Perhaps. Perhaps
not.

Floating words not even on a piece of paper. Virtually
floating or virtually words or both? Does that make them less real? Virtually
me. Prozac isn’t for feeling happy. Prozac is for feeling less. M. J. is for
feeling more. Do you need more? Sometimes I just want to feel at home.

The never-ending question is why. Why do I always need to
know why? It would be so much easier if… if why wouldn’t exist. Why is so
comforting… so if it wouldn’t exist, there would be fear and panic. Such raw
feelings… I would crawl inside your skin and lay eggs. Then I would fly. If.

My arms are numb . My legs are numb. I’m admiring the dried
corps of a rose in a vase. I should through it out. One of these days. Or I’ll
just keep it without water until the next one will come to take its place. Like
everything else is my world.

 

 

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