I tend lo link myself to the past most of the time, putting myself into a vicious cycle is almost impossible to escape from, but those chains that tie my to the past are way stronger than my will to build a good future and present as well.
Right now, in this lost point in time, I am only able to see a spark along the tunnel I feel stuck in, and that spark is only misguiding me from what I really should be working on. I feel like this spark is only a force to a paradise I believe I need, but as well it is the certain way to lose my head, and myself.
Whatever feelings I’m letting room for within my tired loins are surely consuming me slowly, in a way that, feels like a pleasure being eaten to death, but a pleasure that falls in the splattering of blood all over white walls that cannot be clean to a funeral white again.
My feelings are something I’m capable of writing about, but the thing I write about them ends up being a pure cliched-mosaic of Hollywood’s purest box office movie, still I believe in my feelings, and will continue endlessly to write on them, even if my words turn to lies at some unknown point, but that’s what artists do mostly, lie.
I’m wandering around the main topic of my prose, but definitely I’m certain that the point is just bullshit I’m going to cry on whenever I come back. But well a man’s gotta have something to mourn within his poor tear-poured soul, doesn’t he?
Mine is just going to be filled with the saddest thoughts about the men and women I’ve loved for my short life, and the way they continuously keep on unloving me, like it was some kind of sport they could become masters on.
I gotta tell you that I love feeling the pain within me. That’s all. And these written links will connect me, some sooner, some later, to the enjoyable pain of being hurt by the past.