martes, 15 de diciembre de 2009

Scrap


I haven't slept for about a thousand years. Nor mentally, nor spiritually. Only physically, and I seem to be sleeping more than my body can take.
Lethargy swims all around me. When I'm awake, everything feels far, far away. I could stretch my hand for a million light years, yet not reach what I'm aiming at.
But it doesn't matter much. I speak less, and when I do, I dribble words that are less than statements.
What I say is not in my mind, and my mind is a long distance from my words. If they are words. Maybe it's just a dellusion of a forgotten interaction.
And the cold, it feels so good in the faint white sunlight, no wind, just the cold freezing my hands, my face. But in the darkness it's different, it chills, it burns, it makes my nose drip.
Today I switched languages for my comfort. These thoughts look definetely better this way. Same as the dirt in my hands, same as the dirt in my coat, bold, white.
Maybe I'm starting to split.

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