Chemicals
By Neurosine
Cells burst freely without wimper or whine, while I become a bloody beast, waiting to release my mind. Fear wilts into bleak desparation, subtle and unkind. I would like to sink into some hot tub, with a willing woman, and a glass of white wine. I'd like to think it'll be okay anyway, but it brings me no comfort this time. What could I do, where do I go? I fucking hate to whine. Inneffectual intellectual, emotionally blind, feeling so very out of place, very out of time. Did I take a bad eigenstate, did I luck on an unfortunate life? How will I take it from here? How do I make it all right? I know there's a simple something, forgotten or cast to the wind, that I failed to grasp, or I disdained to mend. I'm spiritually dimming with each, day as it ends, I miss what it meant, don't know why. Like some walking pneumonia, I seem fine. Most people have lives no better than mine, and seem quite satisfied. I'll just have to get over my innate sense of fear, and learn once again how to climb.Depression on paper. Writing can be therapy. Lessons can rhyme. Written December 5th, 2001 © on Dec 04 2001 07:35 PM PST, Neurosine 18 • 0 • 10
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"Cells burst freely without wimper or whine,..."