You
know what I’m like. I want to be different.
I
am trying to establish a connection to the starry outside, that huge black
thing that goes on forever.
What’s
needed is a line of communication. Earth is too small for me and the gravity
gets me down. My brain is so huge and exquisitely structured that only an alien
intelligence from a highly advanced civilization could really understand me and
make me laugh. A lady with silver skin that is always completely cold. Imagine
me, it’s very poignant, so lonely on this world, sending beams of thought and
intention into outer space, and receiving nothing in reply. The stars watch but
don’t whisper. Not to me.
Doom
steers me. I open my heart to
Them.
It’s not just a performance. I wanted to get away. Bane. To run, just laughing,
and the body full of joy. But it’s strange sometimes and I feel I’ve lost
something, the warmth of myself, close at hand, right there, an intimate thing,
like holding hands. That’s what despair is like. The distances
are
very long.
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