In a corner, quietly.
The following was written sitting in my hotel room in Tyumen, Russia. The place was crowded as we were hosting a party. I didn't feel in a social mood and so I sat with my headphones in and wrote. The following is the unedited result:
Today is the day my self-esteem will be executed, but all I can do is sit here and write. You force my pen to the paper and take the fly from my ointment. With one touch of your hand you could sever the noose strangling my mind. But your fingers are busy, touching him, because he'll always win.
Each word adds variation to the paint in my pallet. With a few simple sentences entire worlds can be constructed - and old one's destroyed. Writing is a system, one that's as overrated yet simultaneously under-appreciated as wisdom.
I've caught myself writing more often than usual, though I've no idea why. Perhaps I enjoy seeing my thoughts in a much more readable format. I can't understand them while they float around in my head like goldfish in an ever changing bowl, but this? This is easy.
My mind's a minefield; a mindfield riddled with conflicting emotions as they bombard each other with missiles carrying self-doubt & animosity. Regardless of which side wins, the other will of course lose. As they're merely a part of me, that means I lose, too.
Forever a loser, Andrew.
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8 Comments
I'm fine, haha! And I don't know who I was referring to in the 1st(2nd) paragraph :')
Was this written under the influence of anything? Still liked the style.
Executing self esteem could also be worded as eliminating false ego, which is necessary for enlightenment and perceiving absolute truth. Rubbish for parties, though.
With a few simple sentences entire worlds can be constructed - and old one's destroyed. (nice one)
Thoughts like goldfish, (I liked that)
Your current music matches the mood perfectly. Was that also contrived or just you?
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