Dear Diary, I seem To Be Dead - 04.08.03 (ten) :
When I closed my eyes.
I could barely see the light.
I felt out to the edge of the track.
First off, to the left.
Then to the right.
Why take a chance?
Why risk surviving this crash?
I could feel it in my feet.
Then in the knees.
Then in the stomach.
I think I hear--screeching and blowing.
My eyes fail--screeching and blowing. And force themselves open--screeching and blowing.
Why take a chance?
Why risk surviving this crash?
I think the engine said, I think the engine said.
I think I made that up.
I think I made that up.
We are animals, driven by desires.
We are consumed, buying their picture of happiness.
We deal in lives, trading people like things.
We are machines, turning emotions off and on like a switch.
And when I close my eyes, I can barely see the light.
Feel out into darkness: nothing--nothing.
There is no one to catch me: just me--just me.
And somehow this feels right.
This is a break from relentless give and take.
This is a break, a chance to move on. This is a time of silence, of silence and peace.
Alone inside my head.