It begins to wail. It begins to rain.
Water moves in gutters.
White air all around...

I desire to write. I am impatient to begin.
We are in the same boat, are we not?

... I go up. Now i go down. I walk up an down. I am losing myself on the steps.
It is simple... the air is reckless with expletives.
That's why i am here. I understand you. You step up the rain. I understand rain.

I am happy to be here

Time begins and ends in water
I send a prayer, a long mysterious prayer.
I sent it into the simple shadow, water seeps it away.

Do not give up.
I pray some more.
I pray I am dreaming.

A crowd gathers. I empty hours and minutes for them.
You enter- i should be more like you.
Yet I am all nerves and knots. You are a gift. A souvenir.
I pray a little more...I am half -praying... and [you're so] perfect...
I have a little, a little, a little more.

I watch the simple clouds pass

At daylight again, there are plenty of these, not reckless diversions, but another tomorrow.

Snippets from "Limited Access"
Rappel

Pain is resistance to faith.
Faith is for those lacking direction.
Direction to where?
Heaven or hell?
By the time you get there it will be too late....
There is no final destination.
So what's left then? Wonder aimlessly from place to place, not knowing where you will land next?
Not knowing what comes right around the bend,
Not knowing where it will be that you'll rest your head against a pillow to sink into the solitude of sleep?


Solitude...
So comforting. Relieving. Beautiful in its emptiness. A perfect vacuum.A mass of pure nothingness. That's where you return, after there's nothing left...

i dont want to be alone.
Solitude is a desert. A barren land of dread... i dont want to go back to that sterile place again. to that self-imposed prison. it's painful. emptiness hurts...

Pain is resistance to faith...

Walking on thin glass

I am numbed and my limbs are weak.
I’ve got nowhere to go.
It is too cold and I’ve got a feeling,
I’ve got a feeling I’m walking on thin glass.

Careful little steps, afraid to crack the glass that’s so fragile. Underneath are people, walking, talking, busy with their everyday life. The scenery is constantly changing, yet its always the same, and here I am on the transparent heights of my glass, vulnerable and exposed Above my head is the sky and once it was my everlasting source of inspiration, and I wish I could fly, but it’s too hard to fly on a day like this when the heavy clouds press hard on my shoulders and the air is so thick. Below my feet is a huge swamp where people live in their own shit and vomit. Looking down I hold back a wave of nausea that turn my stomach inside out, and it’s always hard, hard and empty and I am empty and too weak to walk on the slippery glass. I can’t, I can’t go on any longer. I’m afraid to make yet another step lest the glass should crack and I should fall in the rain of shards and splinters. From above I can see blood smeared on the pavement as a body hits the ground.

Dreamscape

The land that time forgot...

Pick out a face and paint it to match the mood.
It’s pale, round and thin like the sliver of the moon in the afternoon sky. Lips drooping, slightly bent at the corners, eyes like heavy beads of lead swimming in the pools of whites. Sad, sad they are and boundless. They draw everything in. Standing out in sharp relief against the background of the pale skin.

I purse my lips. Suppress a scream.
I step into the light-- the light feels raw against my skin.
I wrap myself in my mood. I become one with my mood.
This is not me. I become her. One with her insanity. Or mine. To walk the long path that seems to have no destination...