Beyond the Moon I listened to a Pregnant Female. She wispered nothing, I didn’t feel like repeating those sorrowful words or sounds, can’t remember what they sounded like.
I realize there’s something beyond any literary technique. I’m sure spiritual wanderings are not enough. One could be captured by the pitfalls of banality as easy as a frog…it’s the reason why I wouldn’t bound myself to an euphemistically assessed word-countability. I…listen to me! And I study. Life is a treacherous banality, some kind of inspiration coming from cloudy fruits. I’m just learning how to feel, how to feel thinking. Why on loneliness? Why did I spend my money on loneliness??? “I’ll never know”, said my weeping loneliness, caught into my mouth.
I feel so embarrassed…my English sucked, my English still sucks. I didn’t pay attention to grammar, full of hatred, me!
And alone…nothing but me…No more poets, no more friends! I’m in a nutshell, all alone. I care about my own ideas, idiotic me!
Having read my earlier posts, I realized how pitiful I was. Maybe I didn’t diserve all these egocentric impulses.
I will be teaching in Bucharest. Philosophy. The mirror of nature? Where the hell is my enthusiasm? Enthusiasm is a dog from Hell, Ch. B. God dammit! All these illusions…I’m not smart if I paraphrase!
Perhaps my virtual reader is asking itself why am I writing this…My blog should be interesting, it should comprise promo materials, not my bloody thoughts. You know what? Maybe my virtual reader is right. But I’m not going to swallow my meditation just to make it happy! Alas, I’m hearing myself! My stupid self, Rimbaud would have added.
