My game
What a day for a daydream, the window is pretty and the feeling in my head is tasty. It's such a good day to think about the inside- the silly niggles and nodules of interest that are pushed aside. I'm happy to sit and I feel it is all accomplished- all round and shiny and empty. No emotion just empty smile and eyes filled with retreat. Hours are days and who am i to care when there is nothing to care about. Lie down and submerge, gulp crunch drink, just enough to continue inside, tunneling to your soft touches and to forget.
It's all so easy in my dreams, like playing games. Games where I play myself, I can always win when it's good. Lose when it's bad, and it's always bad in the end. But when it's good it's very good.
Crunch, gulp, swallow. Chew on a grim future. But what's a future when there's no time, no today, no now. All my game, my war-game, my battle.
With my gun over my shoulder I flail in the mist, trying to find myself when I'm too happy to care if I do or not. It's a war and I don't care.
I'm warm and beautiful and all I see is pity.
posted by Merlin at 4:31 PM
2 Comments:
Though I am not a student of literature, but I love analyzing works of prose and poems - try to get into the mind of the author and understand the real hidden meanings in those lines. I am often successful; also fail sometime.
But kudos to you. You are the toughest author to analyze :D:D. No matter how much harder I try to analyze your works and understand your mood, I can't :(.
Whatever it is, this piece was brilliantly written.
Hmm. thank you for the comment- a bit of praise is always well received! I just wrote this in an attempt to describe the feeling of lying on my bed looking out the window, having got high on morphine. The crunch, swallow bits are about taking more, and the battle-my game- is about the inner-turmoil I feel about the drug. Sometimes I win-I feel good, sometmes I lose, I get withdrawals and social exclusion and all the problems that are associated with drugs.
Really the piece is written from the viewpoint of me when I am high so it is quite biased in favour of the drug. The mist is my lack of clarity of thought and there are many metaphors there to describe my feelings of warmth and happiness whilst intoxicated. etc.etc. I hope all's well with you. and for anyone else reading-the pity line at the end is a comment on the pity I receive from those who don't understand why I do what I do. Peace.
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