6/12/03 sat. oh, what do I know about this love which once
seemed the most real thing but is now so far away,
uncertain, like a memory. Or is it only fear creeping up
into tired thoughts at the close of day?  Life is still
lived sunken deep in dreams and if you take hope away from
this love - hope that in the end, that no matter what, we
will somehow be together - all that remains is this
flickering memory. And I miss her so. now that I am puzzled
and forgetting who I am. questioning my love, counting my
hesitations and disregarding the wonderful intimacy we
shared: discarding the love past for the uncertainty which
is future. So far removed I came to be, it saddens me, the
crushing riddle of how much can two people really love each
other, really see each other for what they are, truly
understand?
Kind of this dimension to offer me a face and a form, things
to be so plastically undisturbed by doubts and dreams. And
these dreams, so strangely leading down a path of
personhood, through great ephemeral swamps, So the existing
are oblivious and oblivion, carefully watching, knows all.
reality nails me down, like a hunting trophy, squirming but
helpless onto a wall of concrete selfhood - comes complete
with house, job and detachable limbs. detachable soul &
heart; dwindling desires to poetry; rechargeable capacities
for love and understanding; how do I explain to the
psychological profession, that though I still posses a clear
perception of reality, I find it redundant, irrelevant and
obtrusive, not to mention its obstacle-like features, of
keeping me from the very desires it has installed in me? How
do I legitimize this distaste? No. All this ontological
doubt and I still can't go through walls! I can but narrow
it down to loneliness and discontentedness, name the
afflictions with various sounding words and address them as
practical problems to be solved by a practical, well
adjusted inhabitant of planet earth. I was kindly enough
provided causes and symptoms and the independence to stumble
through them half-blind. Card to be given out at birth:
"Welcome, make any damn sense you like of this place, we
lost the manual" lost to doubts and lack of faith. Nothing
more severe. Our delivery service includes reasons, not any
legitimacy to believe any of them.
I hereby, publicly, black on white, discredit my capacities
for love and understanding. I now alienate myself from all
which I have hebetated, I disown the need so I can dispose
of its bickering unfulfillment, with nothing more than a few
hastily cast words on a piece of paper which may or may not
outlive me. I declare my disgust with mankind's endless
sloshing in the mud of reality. I ease the pain of living by
not living at all, by disbelieving life and their pain. this
is my outrage against the tyranny of flesh and form and
society, which so willingly binds these two to her purposes.

Hah, a crude negotiation: you and I reader, will never cross
the border of these words. I will forever be writer - a
mood, fleeting time in a man's life, an ounce of thought or
soul sacrificed to ink, and no more beyond the time you take
to read and swallow this sentence. you reader, will always
be but a possibility, the guess that other beings exist
which are capable of taking in what I let out or understand
in a way which is no less mine than theirs.
we both have other things to do in our illusion of time &
space and will shortly hurry on. no use to hang around.
reality, by definition, is more persistent than its
underminers, especially when those state their clear and
uncompromising aversion of it. I don't exist, therefore you
have nothing to worry about. these are only words scrolling
through a mind, your mind, which probably doesn't exist, so
these are mere echoes, ripples through space. but as long as
they are spelled correctly and obey certain laws of grammar,
they are forgiven. perhaps we have both squandered enough of
our preciously imagined time and this cry is ultimately
futile to any of our possibly existing selves. this, like
anything, shall pass, shall succumb to distractions and
relief and it will be nothing more than a moment insisting
to be taken out of the useless game of space & time and
wallow in the immediate certainty which is canceling out all
uncertainties. Including you and me, reader. these are words
which have denied their own creator, an idea that demands to
stand alone, eternal. A thought, shaking off sticky
circumstance.
Until it fades, like a train sounding in the distance,
leaving behind, again, the same circumstance, including
body, mind, soul... bits and pieces of longing and despair
mixed with winter, night and nausea, endless unremarkable
detail and a few burning questions of fear and need. No
remorse after this short disobedience to existence, we will
both reserve the right to question the other's reality. and
the admittance that we know we ourselves are real, and up to
our necks in it, safe in the knowledge that no-one survives
unless fully submerged. No half breeds with nothing! oh but
we are.
and laugh the bitter laughter to prove it.
sleep comes mangled and distorted, short victory for the
void. there must be more than one long-term solution.
the mechanics of the world proceed chronologically,
according to human perception, making a passive-aggressive
scenery for a confused intercourse of biology, psychology
and mysticism: life goes on: not all betrayals end within
the reaches of the page.
One request is still clear: not to be caged in human form,
to be liberated by it. Not to be a specific person, but
simply be. to stop playing roles and exist unequivocally,
locally and immediately. Raise the curtain! smash the stage!
be free