Fingers on a page…is there an investment in energy that can be stored in paper? Or is it just another facet of ‘the Matrix’? As in what it is that we assign value to gets it (our energy). Of course that’s true (idiota..). Just sitting here sippin’ beer…fuckin lush.
-But really? I just wrote something, a massive something…that I would assign all that I have left to that isn’t assigned already to permanence. All romantic connections would come to a quick halt…as reigns jerk Clydesdale's, sheer power yielding to the yoke of ‘being broken’. It’s not all I was created with…maybe all that shit is just distraction?? IDK, IDC…not enough, anyway. I assigned the emotion, I invested energy. I brought that paper to life…wait…
Recalling the last I felt such electricity, such life…I can’t remember except for being heartbroken at certain moments. So the value maybe comes from the other side. Might I be being thought of? I do wonder what she dreams about…if she sees me…if she’ll know me. I disavow the altruism in my soul for a touch…just one..fucking..touch.
Or not, because such a touch could steal my soul. But, alas, don’t be a fool, she could have it. Of all of those you’ve Loved, she would deserve it. (As I feel the intense desire in me to bloody my fists). Calm, pk..calma te…tranquilo, papi. ..
Electricity on a page, its alive, it DOES exist. This Love thing. Yep…just checked. It’s not in my writing or eloquence of skill that’s kinetic. It’s the “assignment”, you’re vested, and vested things grow in value.
Is it time to go home yet? Too many things to try and capture…and your handwriting is unbearable, right now. Like wet sand in a pillow ;). (Mental note, good memory..that was fucking hilarious). I should go see what the roomies are up to…and my late night visitor.