subject: fairy tale.
time: 9:50am
music: greatest story ever told - oliver james
mood: awake!

i want fabrication. goldspin our dyslexic promises, yours and mine and yours and hers, and his and theirs' - this juvenile exultant in our new discoveries; unaware of that thousand pricks of a needle, that will send our blood reeling into the afterworld. prince charming and sleepy guards for my castle frozen in time. and i think i will be content in my forever sleep.

yet, the only frontier left unaccessed is that of intangibles and fantasies. and when words spill over to the next page and end two lines later, give me a book with empty pages after the last word so i can bleed my story, inkblot madness and all, to construct a reality as complete and utter. of what i am nothing more of ... i begin a paragraph with a thought and end with another. blank pages after blank pages; one after another, enrapt me in intoxicated happiness with the influx of unwritten words in my mind, just spinning in my wheel.

regression, distance between, into the endings, i've walked to cessation. have you ever dreamt of writing in black so black? aimless and searching? always looking for eternity? absolute truths that do not exist, and we're always looking for something, for someone.

sometimes, it feels like i can't hear what anybody's saying and everything is coming to me distorted, fragmented.