vendredi 12 janvier 2007

Her hair, sometimes, looks like his when lying on the bathroom tiles.

But I don't care. Anymore.

We've become strangers, but still my mind recalls his touch. In some rooms echoes his voice.

But it doesn't ache. No more.

And I know they all told me it would only take some time. It only takes some time... Only took me time to see him turn his back at me, only took me time to wash away every trace he had left in my space. Took me time to tear him out of me. And yet I'll never accept to lead his image to an absolute vanishment.

It only took me time. And insanity. But no one ever told me about the latter.

Despair froze me. Like a paralyzed infant. Loneliness crashed me. Like a squashed bug. Guilt tortured me, like knives teasing my skin, aiming for my fingers. One by one. Tears drowned me. Like a suffocating dog lost at sea during a storm.

But I managed it. Almost all. I'm still trying, at some moments. I guess delirium never truly leaves you.

I won't deny this frenzy that takes hold of me sometimes. It is part of me. Like Modest Mouse sings: "My hell comes from inside comes from inside myself/Why fight this." It's not even a question.

I'm a freak. Perhaps I like being one. Or does claming that I am such a person eliminates this state of spirit? Maybe I enjoy waking up late at night only to realize I had a dream... A fucked up dream... Or not.

Visions scare me. Entice me, towards I don't know what. Also provoke me. Please tie me up.

Or don't. I want to go watch hairs fall down the drain.

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