I was fortunate in my own solitude, among the ravaged persons who lost their feet and stepped tempo in the long march behind our only leader. The silence, which saved me, through which I remained still and survived, cured nothing. It devoured me slowly, with subtle progress to which I still whispered against--in ignorance. I can never praise my own mute dissent, I felt hollow, disturbed, much more than an alien to humanity unlike the onslaught of the rest of the lemmings. They had comradery, solidarity in blindness and violence, I felt no comfort in my self-resistance. Now; They call me the moral one, the one who retained his values with the utmost courage, I hate those who hold me sacred, and who cherish my loss much more than those which I aimed to burn and resurrect during the dark days of the war. A man of letters they say in the newspapers, he who stunted the trains, and pierced parliament in with his admonishing eyes.. I was blind to myself, and practiced ripping through my skin daily, to reveal life, so I can share it with the world of brazen candles. If I could do it all over again Id ask Hannah to kill me before it began.
Posted on: Thu, 21 Nov 2013 18:40:16 +0000
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