August 25th, 2007
Ambivalence
Inside a withered shell, a faintly glowing light stirs.
Twenty-seven years sedated, twenty-seven more and I’ll wait.
The weakness of the spirit throws cold water over a steaming heart. Fighting through a placenta of mediocrity, the soul tires and rolls over for another five minutes to dream.
I am not the dull and imperfect fantasy of everyday life. There must be a knife in here to cut my out.
