where there is no vision

Can’t sleep. I must have residues on my brain. Last night I had the wild shrieking of nightmares yet again. The nightmares seem near-infinite in detail that it must be what makes my world-weary. Not so much to do from the dead cold of the night and the scorching weather in the day but rather the tiredness and numbness.

I happen to miss the unrelieved grey days.

I could barely move when my eyes had blemished. “Use them” I told myself while attempting to polish the unrequited rattle of chain undertakings. Struggling mercilessly against a drain of vision this unshaven face turned into a relic in dead-lock. Subsequent incoherent intermissions are not uncommon when you find yourself in a tense, hurried, and hostile environment. Much like rapport of carnal commerce this day and age. In guilty silence without my two eyes, I penetrated deeper into my sub-conscious. The place you're told to stay clear of, the place of intimate affairs.


I've been quite sick over the past few days. In a state of utter disarray, in my exploring of this pattern, unbroken, and continuing, I’m sorry to say I’m a bit lost as of late. Life it seems is a whole lot of unmotivated steps. I call them unmotivated steps because they lead no where but to my own sort of quarantine. It’s a motto that tends to violate me while I’m rushing to meditate in my ardent journal. Without trying to thoroughly disintegrate rightly in the given situation; If I were to imagine myself as a building I would certainly be condemned. Perhaps with a doddering hypochondriac inside.