Who was it? Cioran?
″What is one crucifixion
To the daily kind
Of the insomniac″
Sardonic cackling
As I tumble outside
The sun′s too bright
The streets too loud
I feel my lungs
But not my hands
Were my teeth always this many?
1,3,6, numbers bleed and lost again
98 hours all at once, all too fast
Too intense and numb and crisp
Caught in the wake of my wake
Taking in, terrified
The tumultuous totality
Never stopping
Even when I close my eyes
They won′t stay shut
Gut in knots
Why won′t they shut
And voices keep
The growing noise
The grating laughs
shut up
shout!
Apologies, I was...
Nevermind
Mind the path
The pavement keeps
Escaping the length of my legs
Breaking the flow of my gait
Breaking my fall. Hands.
Fuck. Still numb at least
Serpentine sanctuary
Temple on cold stone
Offbrand cryostasis
Oasis of calm
Shut leaden lids
Turn
Off
<= Go back