

TimeTime alternately moves rapidly and slowly. A day crawls by like a half-crushed insect, dragging it's mangled body behind it. Lurching like some sickening broken amusement park ride.Time
Even sleep feels like waking life. Dreams become entombed as actual memories to the point where reality and unreality overlap and blur.
There is a fever perpetually burning beneath the surface of my skin. I feel as though I could set the world ablaze if I touch any part of it. Perhaps time would move more quickly in a world on fire.
Hours would race to keep pace with the flames. More


release and reliefI wake up with a headache and reach for my journal and a pen, the only drugs that will soothe the pressure. Somehow alleviate the pulsating pounding of the words in my mind as they rush towards my skull threatening to explode out of me and paint my surroundings with images of beauty an terrorrelease and relief
inadequacy and hope I can not think to form the sentences sometimes for there are so many words crowding to the surface like orphans in a movie lining up hoping to be picked and loved and brought
back to life Often it's a jumble, a collision of every book I've ever read every word someon


Tiny godsI spend more time watching people than actually talking to them, As I observe them, like some unknown god, I create their universe around them. I give names to their faces, decide on their lives and what they are feeling. Do they stay up all night aching, unable to sleep? Or are the happy, picture perfect, with a family, like things should be.Tiny gods
Generally I make them lonely, strange, and beautiful. I send them home at night to empty houses to count their ceiling tiles and talk to themselves. Sometimes I give them an addiction. If they have a home there is a bottle or pipe or needle waiting


empty generationThe nameless soulless writhing youth of today there is not culture there is no movement like vultures feeding on the carcass of the past so vacuous empty there is no desire no pulse no sense of emotion no human connection everyone feels they are the center of their own universe but they are not stars they are black holes sucking all light and life out of the galaxy into eternal darkness a vast abyss there is no afterlife this is purgatory this is death we are going nowhere.empty generation
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"When you want to complain, there's no one can stop you
But when your music proclaims, there's no one can top you"
The Who - Guitar And Pen
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"Mother should i trust the government...?"
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MDL
Thank you so much for the fav.

Kisses from Portugal,
Ana.
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website
flickr account
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Some say loooove is a ryyythmmmmksjfolkjsvokb;lkn;lksf........
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