A metaphor appears uninvited, isn't it?
The words reveal more than one truth, they hold a meaning I've been unaware of.
My back hurts. It is so because I try to straighten up my spine, to hold up my shoulders, but I carry a lot of weight now. My legs are swollen and slow as sometimes my mind is.
The words reveal more than one truth, they hold a meaning I've been unaware of.
My back hurts. It is so because I try to straighten up my spine, to hold up my shoulders, but I carry a lot of weight now. My legs are swollen and slow as sometimes my mind is.
I need more sleep, yet more and more sleep; and I can never
get enough. I need to switch off this slice of reality; but in another layer again
I get chased by tight pair of jeans and avoided by unfriendly, dentated Sun.
I cannot rest. My bed is a crowded place; crowded with
people, full with shells of abandoned dreams, covered with crumbles of crumbled
years, soaked with saliva left from thumb sucking, salty with tears.
How can you breathe in your sleep if you're not allowed to
open the window, to inhale the fresh smell of rain and green?
I can't rest; there's no room in my bed, in my room. They're not mine anymore. There's no room for me in my life; my life isn't mine anymore. I regained my flesh but I have nothing to do with it. I don't want to do anything with it anymore.
I can't rest; there's no room in my bed, in my room. They're not mine anymore. There's no room for me in my life; my life isn't mine anymore. I regained my flesh but I have nothing to do with it. I don't want to do anything with it anymore.
My mind, my time, my earthly belongings...do not belong to
me.
I can't afford to be happy.
I can't afford to be happy.
photo taken from:
http://stanfordflipside.com/2012/09/student-realizes-he-doesnt-have-to-make-bed-by-day-3-of-nso/
Нема коментара:
Постави коментар