to consume the void around you. to be afraid constantly. to be with tears in you eyes constantly. for all the beauty, all the meanings, all the truths... lost... lost in this place undefined.
i take out the pen and start writing while under the influence of narcotics. the voices speak behind my back and i mark the paper with symbols, afraid of looking back, afraid of not seeing light moving across the canvas of the picture.
there is no one there. no one living, only the ghosts wandering from all the pasts brought together. i am awaiting implosion.
there can be no illusion here... only delusion. and from that point i can reconstruct the obscure shade that dresses me, that keeps me unseen to their superficial stare.
'forever' is the word of liars. sometimes i would like you to lie to me, like wine mixed with poison dripping down my neck. and then the final bite, the one that feels like nothing could be better.

you know, its mere automatons that walk the sideways. at night their keys are turned while we fade into unconsciousness. in the dreams that come alive in comatose experiences, we are still trapped like sewer waters overflowing. and you may never stare into those depths again if it would not be for me, the one and only juxtaposed failure in your serene walkthrough.
at night, the tiny wheels screech and scream, like inner voices, like tiny animals put to death. cruelty does not suit you and yet you hold the butcher's knife. i come like cattle on the hard stone floors. fury exists in silence.

i should end this.