When your chance of staying aware for a few more minutes depends on something,
you just do it,
you never think about why you are doing it.
I thought writing was like that,
I thought I would write whatever the fuck I want to write.
But lately I am getting cocked a lot by my fears,
lately it feels like I am repeating the words and ignoring my disability to see things in utter normality.
The creations that matter have always been created out of a person’s madness,
there was nothing and in lunacy these few steel ones brought the abominable to the ground, to the destruction.
That cliff is somewhere in the mist,
I started somewhere at the bottom where the mountain river flows through the resistance of old boulders,
like poetry,
like scattered words in a slender verse…
I am on my way between these two,
and somedays you want to try the incoherence with a straight face
and forget about the times you fell cause you were mad and the world was still learning.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Aaron Siskind.