I can't stand the rain..How on earth can I spend my days writing about global warming when it's not even happening here?
Miss the sun on my skin.

Black and white photographs. New faces and old. How can you miss something you never had? How can you demand something you let go? Who am I? No, really..

Too many questions again. Writing for an audience makes me self-conscious. That's the problem. But there's no audience. And maybe there's no me. Still I keep projecting my reflection on others. Think I know them as they think they know me. Illusions..

That's enough I want to come down now. Survival a never-ending trip. No antidote. Suicide is a fire exit. Run away.
Well, I'm staying. Too many things to say but I can't say anything. Words and words and words mean nothing. Burn what keeps you safe and warm. Walk barefoot on broken glass. Life's inevitable.
So is death.

Hardcore psychedelic isolation reigning over the oceans of unexpressed emotion. Gone is our paradise of unhindered communication. But hope dies last and why waste our nights with self-absorbed misery? We're free. You, me, and all the imaginary readers in this world.