If I could channel all the thoughts in my head into the words on this page, what a scene it would make. Lately I've experienced the ripple effect of situations and the veiled interfaces of my reality. How yielding it is to riff through the fragility of things. Perverse is the mind that seeks affliction, perverse are the eyes that run these words like news to be devoured, perverse is the bias antecedent of time.
My memory is failing me, it is selective in nature and it dims out the truth of things. My archives are bleak, and maybe just maybe I... unconciously... sadistically... took pleasure and comfort in them through the years. Now the wheels have turned. I need to face my demons. I fear this impending tendency for me to destroy every good thing that happens.
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