subject: ditto.
time: 5:37pm
music: life for rent - dido
mood: euber tired.

my true nature is lending herself
in a gesture of offbeat rhythm
no second a twin to the next
only an erratic melody following
the only path it knows..
*pause* .to listen.
yes,
it still beats to the clock of attrition,
and by then i am falling in all the wrong places
the only truth that my life can hold
is that of salty silence
alone, except for my voice
that couldnt ever feel the pain the rest,
a fabrication of:
what they want me to think
what they want me to do
how they want me to die
threads they weave
around the spaces in my mind
they want me
for a zombie
just like them
just like them

but i always return
always amidst a myriad of
scarlet blackness
splashed on shattered hearts
filled with stashes and
ink,
a trudge of words dried out
as weights to swollen lungs

i have a knife
with which i will twist into
the thousand hearts
that bleed me
i will show them
i will show them
they will know my pain
they will never be again

I could say a lot of things that've happened to me lately. Unfortunately none of these can be summarised simply, or perhaps it could be that my default settings have been aligned back to the (supposedly) unhuman characteristic of being plainly disinterested in people, problems, ethics, decisions, and what is generally deemed as appropriate behaviour for someone whose medical prescriptions go just as far as paracetemol and the occasional antibiotics.

**--
.tick tock.

i barely hear the clock ticking these days. it blazes past me with disquieting chaos. that few times i closed my eyes, i clicked them open with a brand new panorama. a painting on a pedestal. .. and i once again find myself counting off 1... 2... 3 ....appointments off my fingers. it's never ending i say! kin, remember to love yourself! 5:40pm; and it's time for me to fly. i anticipate tomorrow. i always do.

.tick tock.