Imagination never let my heart be free,so I may never know how that feels.caught in a ‘menagerie’ of indifference,that is how I find myself,in a state of unreality,if you like.In short,there is too much pain and anguish in this heart,dissect me,my flaws,my frailty,take away.
a note to whomsoever wishes to read this,a note,(I should stress)a note that is intended for someone in particular.
…I was washed ashore,then I fell into my own grave.
It may seem that everything I write is entirely personal,granted,in an unwitting way,my phyche must influence my perspective on any given subject.My hope is that if looked at deeper,my words may be applicable to others and help them analyse (and so start to conquer)the demons in their lives.
…As I sat down,just sat,thinking about life,I realized I had nothing more to write.What was I to do? I carried on in my musings,so many hours had passed this way I tell you!I must stress I say that in all honesty,you must believe me.I expect you do,I am just worrying over nothing.Please tell me,why does this internal dialogue never cease? Of course it is because I am alive and conscious,but the ‘voices’ in my head never stop,I know I must return [endlessly]to the place where I must,yet I will never forget,I cannot say anymore…
i inscribed my heart upon a page,a page that felt nothing.
Why does an empty vessel stand before my eyes?I should have said ‘present itself’ but did not,I know not why-My only thoughts on this (the reason)are this:that they were the only words that came to me,thus they were the words that spilled onto the page.Are thoughts incorrect?I personally do not believe so,it is(I feel) an aid to the conscious decisions all of us make,in short,where would we all be without that internal dialogue that breeds thought…
…If you will,please think about that(at the least) thankyou.