Tuesday, 7 September 2010


I tried very hard to be someone else. I tried to be someone you liked. Or somebody you hated. It had to be strong. I tried too hard to be this person or thing. In the process I forgot who I was (when i began). Did I carry inseide me something that was completely my own no matter how silly or inferior? Did I ever think my own thoughts? Did I ever speak my own words? I think so. Maybe i'm just getting older so it's part of maturing: changing, transforming, forsaking, transmuting. Did I ever dream my own dreams which i wasn't ashamed of painting with crude kids' crayons? I don't even remember if I believed I had a soul. If I did, where is it now? Do I want to see it again? Will it evr emerge for bad or for good? I wait with a net. My hands are empty. My mouth is empty but I do not dare silence. I was always afraid of the dark and slept with a light on. Betwwen waking and dreaming, I escaped. I became something else, not entirely human, more like a machine made of disproportionate parts:depression, addiction, illusion, delusion, disillusion.I just wanted to go out and play under the stars. I still do. I want to lie on the


  1. I can identify with this piece because these are still issues in my life too. We all continue to change and we grow, or wither. Identity is always in flux, unless you are dead.

  2. Playing under the stars is good, it's very good.

    The rest of the world is locked up and mischief and merriment can rule.