Date:16.11.2008
Time: 5:22p.m.
When a few haunted notes keep playing over and over inside your head even without the guise of pained music, there is certainly something inside that needs talking to. Somehow, I believe that often, this creature does not even realise that it has become an idiot, incapable of feeling anything, not even hurt. And then there is that saying which might have gone along the lines of ‘we can choose the company we keep’. Sadly that is also often untrue.
Given the chance to lie resting on my back staring at the branches trying vainly to block the sun, I would do so. Revisiting old haunts would also be a good idea. Anything is better than sitting resigned to listlessness, especially when there is much work to be done. The idiot often bores others, and nothing the idiot believes in is exciting to those around it. They have other interests and they would rather stay in their own rooms than come out and sit with one who can’t even speak properly.
Those odd hours of talking to itself without words has left it incapable of narrating its thoughts to others. And that would be a gloomy prospect indeed, when words had, at one point saved it from losing its way into itself. Given a chance, I suppose the creature could learn to talk again. However, I doubt the patience of some involved.
Unverified and unidentified notes continue to strike sharply within. And they sound more discordant day by day. The tune is lost too, as is the harmony. Sudden bursts of un-harnessed flair can all but ruin an unwritten masterpiece. That’s a given.
End: 5:34 p.m.
Time: 5:22p.m.
When a few haunted notes keep playing over and over inside your head even without the guise of pained music, there is certainly something inside that needs talking to. Somehow, I believe that often, this creature does not even realise that it has become an idiot, incapable of feeling anything, not even hurt. And then there is that saying which might have gone along the lines of ‘we can choose the company we keep’. Sadly that is also often untrue.
Given the chance to lie resting on my back staring at the branches trying vainly to block the sun, I would do so. Revisiting old haunts would also be a good idea. Anything is better than sitting resigned to listlessness, especially when there is much work to be done. The idiot often bores others, and nothing the idiot believes in is exciting to those around it. They have other interests and they would rather stay in their own rooms than come out and sit with one who can’t even speak properly.
Those odd hours of talking to itself without words has left it incapable of narrating its thoughts to others. And that would be a gloomy prospect indeed, when words had, at one point saved it from losing its way into itself. Given a chance, I suppose the creature could learn to talk again. However, I doubt the patience of some involved.
Unverified and unidentified notes continue to strike sharply within. And they sound more discordant day by day. The tune is lost too, as is the harmony. Sudden bursts of un-harnessed flair can all but ruin an unwritten masterpiece. That’s a given.
End: 5:34 p.m.
3 comments:
whoa. intense piece of stream of consciousness there...
i have a modernism exam tomorrow, and both your stylistic device and the word verification(CITYmpes) are spelling that out!
i'll go back and study.
:hugs:
that was beautiful.
and eerily relate-able.
:d
Take care, LD.
Post a Comment