non-specific

If I had a choice between the man who will offer the nurse a chocolate an hour after I die and the jester who plays with my eyes like marbles...I'll take the jester every time.
They have seen you in all your numbness and they too have been anesthetized
with the pain of living.  This threshold will only hold a dying child for so long before going blank.


If I could look in two different directions at once I would never be interrupted and maybe I could see an end to things.  I could touch where I left all those pieces of me.  Those glorious ragged pieces that don't even resemble what I have become.  Innocence has a smell just like death and when combined -unbearable.


A human face might as well be a smiley face balloon placed in front of me.  I will only miss it while it is here.  I see nothing but plastic and hydrogen.


I wouldn't look into the past and into the future but split sideways in time to see all the possible outcomes of my actions.
These mirrors are holding you up as some god but I know there is a version where you lose.  I want that one.


I wouldn't have to see myself being replaced.  There would be no more time and I could bury you next to him and no one would know why.