I’m dying in box of my own volition, expanding and going no where at the same time. That makes life a struggle for survival. To survive I have to eat; I have to sleep. I can’t just go outside without clothes. So you see there are things I have to pay for. As ugly as I am, I need cloths to appease other people’s sensibilities. I live in a place where the weather is nice all year. As cold as it gets, here it never drops below freezing. I have to spend money on clothes and money on things to clean them. They only get dirty because I’m alive. A lot of times, I’m sure life would be easier if I was dead, not suicide, just, not alive, dead but alive, maybe a ghost, or a vampire. Don’t like my sanity? Why is the opposite so appealing? I can write about simple things and complicated things and make them invert. Simplicity becomes beautifully complex like the way a bee’s wings move through the air making it disproportionately large body lighter than air. Complex things seem simple like the actions in the brain. Still, why do you prefer the things that are so toxic in high doses? It’s so passive, so uninvolved: it’s porn from where I stand, so ugly once you’ve had your fix, and yet — you still come back, to read some more. I wandered through my dreams once. You’ll enjoy this story though you’ll never dream it yourself. Are you sure you still want to read? As I wandered, I wanted to have a conquest in my youth. My dreams do come true when I sleep. I passed up the first few I saw, and then I spied a woman, tall and slender with an elegant stride. The kind you’re not imagining for the words are enough. They satisfy your need for noise. Her hips rolled as she walked but ever so slightly. I could just grab her and make her mine. Just listen to that echo throughout your mind, “Grab her and make her mine”, over and over again. You’ll never see it because you’ll never dream. The noise just echos. It makes it hard to heal. The sound drowns all the voices that tell you how to love.

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