So long, so short. Are their any consistencies? Any method to this
madness I fear when I try to examine the course of my life. No way to
explain the things I know. The words which present themselves from
another mind without a tougne. The colors I read on people and the
maps their hands reveal to me. I accept what I am, but at thymes like
with anything, I grow weary. I yearn to know less about others and
more of myself. Where are the years? What curtain have I created to
eradicate my own actions from my mind? What can I make out from the
stroboscopic images that I am given? What do I do with the fragment
sentence of my life? I am a writer and I must complete this story.
In my own thyme in my own way.

So long, so short. Are their any consistencies? Any method to this
madness I fear when I try to examine the course of my life. No way to
explain the things I know. The words which present themselves from
another mind without a tougne. The colors I read on people and the
maps their hands reveal to me. I accept what I am, but at thymes like
with anything, I grow weary. I yearn to know less about others and
more of myself. Where are the years? What curtain have I created to
eradicate my own actions from my mind? What can I make out from the
stroboscopic images that I am given? What do I do with the fragment
sentence of my life? I am a writer and I must complete this story.
In my own thyme in my own way.

The strobe, on off. Blurred motion. Slurred together. What lies
behind that door? When may I cross? Trance like I am glued to my
position on the dance floor. Watch the people not the light. Things
blur. When I come back I a removed. My eyes feel different in my
head. I see a doorway. There seems to be a small amount of red-
yellow light emitting from that doorway. There is a figure lying in
from to the doorway. Slightly to the right of it. The figure appears
to be a man. Jeans? A flannel shirt? Is the man on his back in
fear? Has he fallen down? Is he hurt? Is he on his back for a
sexual reason? He seems afraid. His hand up to his face to block
something. A gun barrel? A knife? There is some thing. Did I do
this? Am I watching it?

The strobe, on off. Blurred motion. Slurred together. What lies
behind that door? When may I cross? Trance like I am glued to my
position on the dance floor. Watch the people not the light. Things
blur. When I come back I a removed. My eyes feel different in my
head. I see a doorway. There seems to be a small amount of red-
yellow light emitting from that doorway. There is a figure lying in
from to the doorway. Slightly to the right of it. The figure appears
to be a man. Jeans? A flannel shirt? Is the man on his back in
fear? Has he fallen down? Is he hurt? Is he on his back for a
sexual reason? He seems afraid. His hand up to his face to block
something. A gun barrel? A knife? There is some thing. Did I do
this? Am I watching it?

11291:Carols Cage

Insecurities shattered
as the glass shards in your blood after the rage directed to the
innocent glass pane. Pain, misdirected for years. Discovering the
core. The actual grief until when confronted with it face to facade,
it is still unrecognizable. Reasons for feelings. Are they true or
misdirected. As all the rest? There are feelings I have that I don’t
know if I have adopted out of expectation or if it is what I actually
feel. I have no way to know for sure.

11291:Carols Cage

Insecurities shattered
as the glass shards in your blood after the rage directed to the
innocent glass pane. Pain, misdirected for years. Discovering the
core. The actual grief until when confronted with it face to facade,
it is still unrecognizable. Reasons for feelings. Are they true or
misdirected. As all the rest? There are feelings I have that I don’t
know if I have adopted out of expectation or if it is what I actually
feel. I have no way to know for sure.

Work so hard. Will it always be like this? No thyme to dream. No
thyme to float. I will never drown but somethymes I gasp for breath
and wonder.
110991

Work so hard. Will it always be like this? No thyme to dream. No
thyme to float. I will never drown but somethymes I gasp for breath
and wonder.
110991

Oh why does it have to hurt so much to become better. I realize that
the relationship was a a dead end and neither of us, in our present
state could do anything to make it better, it still hurts to let go.
All the things shared and experienced and things accomplished. To
realize that it is thyme to go on and try to put my life straight and
not damage anyone else still seems impossible. Could I keep you as a
friend. No. I can’t right now. I still want you far too much for it
to remain friendly. I can let that happen. Perhaps these midnight
rendezvous will be good enough. Safe enough. I am unable to give in
a relationship. But i feel a need to give to friends. A need for
special secrets and sharing. But that is all . I can’t touch or be
touched. I turn to stone. but to sit and talk and share the glows
within me I like, If this is wrong stop it. I don’t want to prolong
or extend pain. But it you can handle this then i think it might be
nice.

Oh why does it have to hurt so much to become better. I realize that
the relationship was a a dead end and neither of us, in our present
state could do anything to make it better, it still hurts to let go.
All the things shared and experienced and things accomplished. To
realize that it is thyme to go on and try to put my life straight and
not damage anyone else still seems impossible. Could I keep you as a
friend. No. I can’t right now. I still want you far too much for it
to remain friendly. I can let that happen. Perhaps these midnight
rendezvous will be good enough. Safe enough. I am unable to give in
a relationship. But i feel a need to give to friends. A need for
special secrets and sharing. But that is all . I can’t touch or be
touched. I turn to stone. but to sit and talk and share the glows
within me I like, If this is wrong stop it. I don’t want to prolong
or extend pain. But it you can handle this then i think it might be
nice.