There are things known..and there are things unknown ...and in between..are THE DOORS

There are things known..and there are things unknown ...and in between..are THE DOORS

Ever considered the possibility ....that you might never find what ur looking for

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There is an idea of existence,some kind of abstraction,but there is no real me.Only an entity,something illusory. N though I can hide my cold gaze,and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our life styles are probably comparable,I simply am not there. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. How I wish to pretend. How I want people to see me .Its nice to put appearances sometimes, isn’t it? Dress me up and see. I'm a tightrope walker, an auctioneer, a downtown performance artist.Sometimes in the midst of the normal routine of life, I suddenly remember that I'v got Tourette's. That’s when it comes, the urge to shout in the church, the nursery, the crowded movie house. It's an itch at first. Inconsequential. But that itch is soon a torrent behind a straining dam. Noah's flood. That itch is my whole life. Here it comes now.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Be Drunken

Be drunken

Always. That's the point.


Nothing else matters; If you would not feel the horrible burden of time weigh you down and crush you to the Earth,
Be drunken, continually.


Drunken with what?
With wine, with poetry, or with virtue as you please.
but Be drunken.

And if sometimes on the steps of a palace or on the green grass in a ditch or in the dreary solitude of your own room
You should awak

en and find the drunkenness half or entirely gone
Ask of the wind ,of the wave, of the star of the bird, of the clock of all that flies, of all that sighs, of all that moves, of all that sings, of all that speaks, Ask what hour it is, and wind, wave, star, bird or clock will answer you,

"It is the hour to be drunken"

Be drunken if you would not be the martyred slaves of Time.
Be drunken Continually, with wine, with poetry or with virtue, as you please."


-Baudelaire






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