Tuesday, August 9, 2011

earnest reflections on a life under lived: 2

i cannot stop fantasizing abandon; only after silently drowning everything familiar in kaleidoscoped vomit.

casino smoke spinning cultural ad nauseam; autophobic-ly induced to emancipate the most lovely summer colors of red, yellow and orange.

in my future memory everything would then be remembered as colorful and somehow impacted.

but that's just it; the act of purging cannot reduce the feeling of fullness if no such fullness pre-exists.

colonized by contradictions of self-improvement; obsessing over- not who I am, but who I am not.

like bad dreaming, my arms too heavy to wave goodbye; stagnantly suffering from the paradigm of progress. 

i would like to mix mediums and prose effecting a newness; selfishly for myself, perhaps at the expense of others (specifically some).

just then, before they notice the change.

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