mr. mittens (akmed) wrote,
mr. mittens

  • Mood:
  • Music:

squirm of the white worm / lair of the brindle hair

" Among my brethren are many who dream with wet pleasure of 800 pains and humiliations, but i am the other kind: i am a slave who dreams of escape after escape,I dream only of escaping,ascent ,of a 1,000 possible ways to make a hole in a wall, of melting bars, escape escape, of burning the whole prison down if necessary."-julian beck- The Life of Theatre.

We'll ,I'll just go up the stairs. They're annoyed. I am empty and don't want to move up. I want to end- this time. Seeing it all- sucking in- the numb brain takes it all and crackles with triviana. The chandelier- rectangles of ugly clear and brown plastic hunks, tastelessly arranged like in an airport in angular bauhaus hell- out of place, hard and pointless. A chained boot steps up at last. The plexiplanes whirl and buzz my head off.
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