Hello. I’m writing to you from a place in the middle. I’m bored out of my fucking mind….just waiting for the “next thing” to happen. This is me talking to God in words. I don’t know if it will make sense.
“I walk the margins to avoid the shattered glass. I grasp at this and that feeding the ever expanding me. I can’t escape me no matter how hard I try. This shiny and that shiny a fleeting glimmer in the expanding and contracting black holes at the center of my eyes…..more there must be more than this! Is this the best you have to offer?!! Be still you tell me. The silence in stillness is maddening what’s next?! I scream inside…..I walk and let out silent screams. Can you hear me?! I walk on the shattered glass now just so I’ll feel the margins….feel anything but this endless middle place between now and then. It’s never enough. I’m perpetually hungry from my stomach to my soul. God What will you do with this vibrating slab of me? You have stripped me down to echoes. What am I undirected and left to my own devices? An automaton waiting for some unseen hand to activate me? Always waiting for someone or something to inspire movement ? I used to have thoughts of my own. A will of my own . God where have I gone?”
To be 