The early 21 century though the eyes of a multi media artist disaffected by culture
This is me your reading about eyes closed trying to recall my life as it slowly ebbing away, the answer elusive as ever. An uncertainty surfaces on my face as I seem to be disturbed by something lost, a deeper frown surfaces as a silent murmur with no clear form or content echoed in the infinite hinterland of my consciousness. My face twists into the moon light and becomes a soft mask, unblemished and colourless. The shadows in the room run deep like my mind but my thoughts are troubled. I turn clammy cold and stare at the gossames after images in my mind’s eye still trying to recall but loses the thought form as I stumble through the dizziness of drawing heavily on the cigarette, placing it in the ash tray and not seeing it fall out.
I go to the refrigerator to get a beer and return to furiously write, wondering if I will l find the answer. My eyes dart from side to side as I wonder if the reader can sense my silent cry as I stare at the reflection of myself in the computer screen, unsure in my mind if I’m faking, in my imagination the essence of the presence of some place in my mind containing all the answers.
I regret not finishing this knowing that you may somehow read this and get in contact with me.
I am the writer
I go to the refrigerator to get a beer and return to furiously write, wondering if I will l find the answer. My eyes dart from side to side as I wonder if the reader can sense my silent cry as I stare at the reflection of myself in the computer screen, unsure in my mind if I’m faking, in my imagination the essence of the presence of some place in my mind containing all the answers.
I regret not finishing this knowing that you may somehow read this and get in contact with me.
I am the writer
Total Comments 1
Comments
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Please cease and desist from writing for 'evermore.'
Am I reading about you, as you suggest, or my image of you as I read? Please clarify what a colorless thing looks like, because my eyes don't seem to have the faculty to see colorless things, perhaps you're swerving me back to my image of you? If you're silent, is it really crying, or is it just silence thinking its crying - a kind of sentimentalised silence? Oh, and stop smoking!!! |
Posted 5th October 2008 at 14:23 by insideleft
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