Alone...

Floating on that island-that oasis of nothingness killing me slower and sweeter- every day passing into another week, another month, another torturous year. My surroundings are just what society likes : a dysfunctional castoff becoming a cog in the great mechanical wheel. Everyone is doing it - pretty girl scarring herself for what? Who wants it? That way? Feel pain to find semblance of pleasure? Why be multi-linguistic when homogeneity is so damn attractive?

I don't think it is possible for me to feel genuine human experiences. I have made this rat maze a stage, and the danse macabre in the broken glass slippers are too well crafted to waste upon the indignant. Come walk with me through the sheet rock and I will always find the bramble to cut your feet with.