this is not my life, it's just a fond farewell to a friend.
it's that time of day again when i'm not sure of anything or anyone. i feel split between two worlds: one of introverted madness, one of extroverted exuberance. one where emotions are sure and one where they are a tightening neuse, the enemy romantic.

and i feel change. i am listening to his elliott from a time before. i call all memories of him his own; to be sure they were never memories made by my own lackluster mind. and now he will do something. and now he will do something to accomplish something to go somewhere to find that he is just as raw inside as when he started the journey of dream.

something so profound in your senses you can't translate into language. that's my life. such an orbit of purity around my true self. last night i was lying on the couch pretty sure that any second my conciousness was going to float away from my quack of a body. i don't know if i could cause that to be. the sheets were damp with a psychic brain shift, a plethora of adjustments soaking my face. what can it be but tears, another word for something we can't pronounce?

the sun, the moon, the day, the night, the ocean, the sky. poetic nature and nothing to hold onto but a few morose words. well i've already seen the moon, the sun, the whole damn warrior world, god. choke them all and squeeze out their essence something that opens my eyes to a possibility. give me birth or give me death. it's pretty simple that we're complete, but what does it taste like? what wisdom does it draw?

what can i write that will move me to change! there is a tramp of anxiety that could be bought by another piece of truth. i think i'm stuck at some learning point. i think i'm a little less than found. i feel change. some involuntary force leaping into my joints like an idea.

i need patience.