i would like to become a lump of coal.
individuals, the smallest, no longer divisible, mingling, crowding. crowd is no longer a noun, but a verb, existing in the present, acting and interacting. pub. beer. glasses full of liquid dreams and aftermath of daily rituals of carving/mangling self. wanting to, striving to, trying to be what one is compelled to be, now left with only half of a self, trying to mend, before the new day begins with fresh wound. dosing ourselves with the medication that is stronger than opium- the belief that things will turn out. or even better, that things no longer matter. amnesia. amnesia for the mind. for the body. for the future. for the present. in conversations lost in noise and movements, ideas spring up, bounce of the shields of one another, the guises we put up to be happy and content. the guise that is strong enough to fossilize oneself into.. a shell that one may no longer realize where or how it all started. growing roots out of our feet, becoming part of the ground, eventually, bec...