Joana. Like a blind man
I have memorised the places I move in
Feeling the walls closing in around me
I cannot fear their familiarity
I turn my head to see what I cannot see
Like a blind man
The noise inside me is thickening
Deafening whispers
The buzz of fluctuating wasps
Sadist and sinister creatures
That drown deeper
The blindness into its abyss
The gelid darkness
The living non-existing
A continuous cycle
The no beginning
The permanently present closure
Like a blind man
I move now sluggishly
I do not need to know where I am
Who I am
Where I am
I am here
Like everything else that I feel
The concrete, touchable proof
Of what is and what is not
The still mood of the highest airs
The electric wires suspending me
I stretch my arms and I am not afraid
I let the feverish cold inebriate me
I feel the atoms boiling inside me
Bursting through the tip of my fingers
Like a blind man
I am trapped in a world that only I can see
Pushing my eyes further inside
So I can see the fading light created
Holding on to the few drops of reality
The remains of sustained happiness
That were left underneath the hives
Like a blind man
I wait here with no possible evasion
Sitting silently at the corner
Guarded by the nocturne wind
Expecting the sign...
re_alisma You were blind, and I seem to enjoy pretending that I am.

It might be an old habit that's dying hard. Or it might be they have me all booked up and sentenced for doing-it-all-wrong, and so, yeah, definitely, satan satan satan. (Or not.)
what's it to you?
who go