Saturday, January 28, 2012
my reel life
this journey begins like all the others. a trip outside these borders takes all that is within me to get out. who knew such fragile bones and porous skin could be so restrictive? slip past a ribcage prison and out through shuttered eyelids to reveal a life of flickering projections. when observed from afar i can discern the stale and predictable plot. this scene is all to redundant. i am the protagonist with no direction, no motivation. the dramatic irony is all but lost on this audience of one. driven by every false impersonation. do i have to kill all my heroes to set me free? unravel every legend to break their authority over my will. each and every endeavor ends in emptiness echoing a foreshadowing that i can hardly stomach. when will i learn that it's not the rain i love but rather wet concrete? i sink back into myself, dejected and despondent. even if resurrected, this impostor would be irrelevant. i'm the gunslinger of the modern era. the lonely desperado caged by glass and steel. an object in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by another object. i need you to enter this system and put an end to my motion.
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