in my mind

A character in this reality, each of us is a character in each episode. Everyone else is watching in another reality. Who is to say what is known? What if all that is known is just perceived? Everything we know is almost everything that we have been told. If our ancestors figured their own truths, why are we not looking for our own?

-in my mind

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Beat keeps me going

I have forgotten to talk
although I think of words
I do not see them exit from my lips

While I am here waiting
I realized that I have spoken
and no words ever came out
and every minute that pass
is prolonged by the relapse of the long hand
so I looked at the mirror, to the rear
and find nothing familiar, but the place I am in
this song is stealing my heart
I cannot help but to repeat
I want to go in
but that will mean the beat will stop
heart, please don't stop
I carry the song in my mind
to keep me from losing the beat in my heart
one step, two step, one step, three step
open the door, table for two
one step, two step, one step, three step
can I sit here, on boot number 4?

I sat wondering why I am here
when I realized the song was gone
Is when I realized that my heart's beat is slowing
I have forgotten the song
I have forgotten the song
I am forgetting myself
invisible sweat began pouring out of me
my skin began to glow red
the heat, I'm overheating
"Anything for you? or would you like to wait?"
"A tall glass of Peroni please"
"coming up"

When the tall glass of the rich golden wheat liquor touch the table
my hand resisted the thirst I quenched
I then remembered the song
reach, grab, lift, and sip
retract, put down, and let go
one more time

reach, grab, lift, and sip
retract, put down, and let go
now my skin is blue
and no longer sweating

The phone rang
"wear are you?"
"walk straight"
"I don't see you"
"keep walking straight"
"ha OK"
I watched her walking towards me from the reflection of the glass
She was looking at the back of my head
yet she was looking directly at my eyes
I am confused
what is going on
I turned back to receive her
Then saw no one,
turned back around and she was in front of me
how did she get there?

By the time we sat,
music left me there
to die alone

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About Me

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Some stories are fabricated, some stories are imaginative, some stories are not your own, and some are factual, but all are stories that is an individuals and he must share so that he feels the world part of him, not just him part of the world