I couldn’t sleep in the old bed again last night. Waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of a scream wasn’t exactly was I was anticipating. And then smoke alarms were sounding from wall to wall inside of my eardrums. It was as if the whole world was about to be washed away in a sudden flood of tears. I am far too sad to deal with people who float by without a conscience. It’s getting to be too much to even share the slightest discourse with walking mannequins. How can so many people carry on in a complete state of unthinking? The tightrope perspective has me shivering in my leather shoes. The March crossroads heralds a kidnapped perspective. I guess that no news is good news. Still, I am strapped to this chair with not a pillow to fall upon. Even if I was free, there would still be no road to follow. And here I am wondering what all of the particles come down to. I wonder why demolition proves itself to be stronger than unity.
