Wednesday, December 19, 2007

What's your Shell Type and What are you Thinking?

I feel useless, the sun is not for me, I am no saint.

I am quiet, I do not say much...I am told this, but I do speak, I say what's on my mind and that's all. Sometimes there is nothing to be said, and then one is accused of hiding in ones shell. I wonder what my shell looks like. Is it cone like or an auger shell, does it have the name Venus attached to it or pearl? Who cares about star signs I want to find out what shell I have. I think that might tell me more about myself.

What are you thinking? That is one of the most annoying things that one can ask, especially when you are not thinking the most pleasant thing about the person when they ask you such a question. Or you could really not be thinking at all, and such a question makes you question why you are not thinking and if you should really be thinking. Confusion sets in and then you just make up something about what you were thinking. Because god forbid you can't be thinking about nothing and you can't be floating in the stars.

Do you like what you see? I like what I see sometimes, sometimes I just see, when one is accustomed to a certain view, one does not ask the question: "Do you like what you see?" There are times I do not like what I see, I do not like what I have done, what I have become. And I wish I could sleep forever, spread my arms and dream, swimming in the sky. If I could disappear I would, into someone's mind, into the heart, into the blackened night.

What is the heart? I have eaten hearts before, with a bit of potatoes and gravy, with vegetables on the side. Quite tasty really. It used to beat before, used to power an animal, pump blood through veins. It used to give life - end result, it ends up in my plate. I have taken away someone's heart, a life only identified with the vessel. I have robbed the world of this creature!

I would rather a bit of moonshine than sunshine, the moon tastes much better. Hurry up you lazy drunk! If all eyes were to be trained on me I think i would die, I am not into the prying eye, the ones that record all things.

Bright light, perfect blue, the sun lives deep down in you.

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