Haunting Me
I want to go home, I want to go home…
My hands cover my face ~ deep, musty-moldy-Katrina-cough breath. When I look up things are different, but no better. Always different ~ never different. I try to focus but every time I move my eyes the picture pixilates, comes loose over a dark background and takes a moment ~ or two ~ to gather itself into a picture again… Why is that? Oh, God, how long have I been awake? Everything around me is dead, but then a house is never alive ~ is it? It all seems to have the charred look of fire wood, only there were no flame.
I want to go home, I want to go home…
I sit on a piece of wood, feel the moisture creep through my jeans, curse the fact that my ass will have a damp feeling the rest of the day. My life will have this damp feeling… I haven’t heard anything in a while. I wonder if the sound is in fragments waiting to sort itself and be heard, the way my visions have been. Audio pointillism. Find myself wondering if memories make noise as they drown, if ghost struggle when flood waters rise. Then momentarily I think that I could be a ghost, haunting this place. It feels that way. Or, maybe, this place is haunting me…
I just want to go home.
http://timecapsule.yahoo.com/capsule.php?i=75723&t=sorrow&l=en
(You have to enlarge to see the complete entry - not that you all need to worry, you have the whole entry here. I would like you to comment though!)
My hands cover my face ~ deep, musty-moldy-Katrina-cough breath. When I look up things are different, but no better. Always different ~ never different. I try to focus but every time I move my eyes the picture pixilates, comes loose over a dark background and takes a moment ~ or two ~ to gather itself into a picture again… Why is that? Oh, God, how long have I been awake? Everything around me is dead, but then a house is never alive ~ is it? It all seems to have the charred look of fire wood, only there were no flame.
I want to go home, I want to go home…
I sit on a piece of wood, feel the moisture creep through my jeans, curse the fact that my ass will have a damp feeling the rest of the day. My life will have this damp feeling… I haven’t heard anything in a while. I wonder if the sound is in fragments waiting to sort itself and be heard, the way my visions have been. Audio pointillism. Find myself wondering if memories make noise as they drown, if ghost struggle when flood waters rise. Then momentarily I think that I could be a ghost, haunting this place. It feels that way. Or, maybe, this place is haunting me…
I just want to go home.
http://timecapsule.yahoo.com/capsule.php?i=75723&t=sorrow&l=en
(You have to enlarge to see the complete entry - not that you all need to worry, you have the whole entry here. I would like you to comment though!)
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