months have passed, a commercial break to some,
but in my war torn mind,
an eternity of infinitesimal moments
oscillating back and forth into existence and
factions sit at the ready with spears made with
a blade as sharp and piercing
as I have become since the last night;
some wood mindlessly shaped,
while I lay in stupor, in wait
for the time of a season that will never come,
for flowers to return
and triumphantly bloom in pitch black;
one long piece of rope made from my own skin:
a mirror to re-mind the mind
of vanity’s allure,
and the strength of superficial certain uncertainties,
amid feeble uncertain certainties
thought by men in 2-story red brick houses,
simple structures with manicured lawns,
too proud to know the difference between
an apple and the apple.
i, i, i
- steven
- "Seeing that before long I must confront humanity with the most difficult demand ever made of it, it seems indispensable to me to say who I am. Really, one should know it, for I have not left myself "without testimony." But the disproportion between the greatness of my task and the smallness of my contemporaries has found expression in the fact that one has neither heard nor even seen me. I live on my own credit; is it perhaps a mere prejudice that I live? ... I need only to speak with one of the "educated" who come to the Upper Engadine for the summer, and I am convinced that I do not live ... Under these circumstances I have a duty against which my habits, even more the pride of my instincts, revolt at bottom, namely, to say: Hear me! For I am such and such a person. Above all, do not mistake me for someone else!" - Nietzsche, Ecce Homo
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