Sunday, September 24, 2006

Random Thoughts of a Sobering Mind


"What rock did he crawl out from under?"

I'm a world traveler, a jet setter. I'm comfortable there. It's home.

"He's a strange one. A real piece of work, that."

"Does anybody really know that guy?"

I've forgotten me, I've forgotten me...

Is there a way out?

Has anyone else cheated themselves like I have?

If I show their crimes, no one will listen. If I show my crimes, no one will hear. But if I show life as it truly is, then all crimes will be revealed. That's when they come to kill you.

How can I explain not being stupid anymore? I've built whole identities around it.

Portrait of the Artist as a Fraud

I've got these really, really bad vibes...

No one's coming to help you. No one can now.

Sometimes you just look around and say, "Oh my God, what have I done?"

Everything I've built on this identity, I would have to give up. But I can't deny the real one. Life must progress.

Man, am I tired...

I'm Dead Man Walking regardless. All this means nothing


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