Hmmm a bit after five in the morning…I cannot quite sleep anymore…there is this particular feeling that I know only one other person shares on this planet
Now and then a poetess comes up with weird lines, thinking about them comes far later. ”Darkness is the silence of sight” was one of them…and this morning, when the light is already shining weakly through my curtains – or on the wall where they do not close – I like keeping my ear plugs in just for the protected feel of it.
The acids of the pineapple burned my tongue last night. Still in my mouth, though brushing. I wonder: when I imagine something like the shape or colour of the acids, maybe I can fall asleep.
While turning around earlier it came to me…does a deaf man hear his own heartbeat, his own blood flow?
If yes, it probably would add to madness in the artist.
I couldn’t make a choice yet if I’d rather lose my eyesight or my sense for sound or keep suffering with the barely controlled perception at this current state
Hmmm control, how is control ever possible when it is never silent, when darkness is only maximum twelve hours a day, how can I control goodness with the evil?
I decided for a different fantasy: bats in a cave.