You look into my eyes, and you think that this is all real. You think that all around you is real. You think that you really know, like my eyes really give the answers that you’ve been seeking.
Meanwhile, I’m foaming at the mouth. I’m gagging myself to stop myself making a scene, because I’m British. I am expressing the expressionless, even though I’m trying to stop myself. There is nothing I can do to stop it all boiling over inside. Once my belly had grasped a message, the message would play itself out before the whole world no matter what happened.
That energy inside, it is causing me to do strange things. The body shakes are just one of plenty. It is a kettle that is full of fish, and the fish are literally boiling alive as a stench fills the streets for a distance around.
And you look me in the eyes, and you see a picture of something that means something to you. Great.
Reality becomes my dream. My dream becomes a commodity. Your blood is warm whilst it is electric. They say the magnetic poles are shifting, that the electromagnetic poles are shifting, that electricity and the world as we know it will never be the same again.
And I just sit here with my gaze of awe at my body working by itself. I wonder what it is aiming towards, if anything. I wonder where it will take me next. I wonder why it took me back here, again, leaving places prematurely on too many occasions. And we all end up back here, back where we root ourselves. Our roots are never in the idealistic, in the magical, in the full-of-magic. Targets are set, and we must meet them. We are not staying here for two more days. Oh! And we’ve got to work ourselves silly, because that’s the way to go, always.
And so it becomes our life. There is no way out now, I know that working myself silly is the only way possible for me.
It is a battle against myself.
And you look me in the eyes, and think that this shit is real.
Originally from: http://sisinvincible.livejournal.com/116587.html on January 11, 2013, 18:59.