2013/02/08
this whole situation was catalysed by my own desecration of my self. i feel like things do not matter anymore; this self-pity corrodes me; i'm the erosion that built my own desert. i travel alone throughout the lands defiled, as if i hoped anything natural might come out of it. nothing really bothers me any longer, and each day it becomes more so. the more i plunge myself into a multi-universal reality, the more the planes seem to melt into one another. nothing seems to make sense or sobriety. i don't love anymore. my hands touch nothing, no one. my heart is out in the open, awaiting for the stomping of the animals, pulsing in so slow a manner that time itself seems to come apart at the seams; dark coloured oceans flood what once was sand and bones, and however i try to keep my head outside the loop, i find myself gasping for air in a reality where the rules are made of daggers.