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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Stream of consciousnessdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: EileenToTheLeft
    ASL Info:    28/f/va
    Elite Ratio:    2.58 - 16/36/55
    Words: 499
    Class/Type: Random Thoughts/Misc
    Total Views: 826
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2762



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsStream of consciousnessdots
    -------------------------------------------


    I don't want to get up. "Lie here", says the voice in my head. Or one of them. Everyone has more than one voice in their head and they argue with eachother until a resolution between them all comes to form a single thought. It is when those voices begin to ignore eachother and stop collaborating that people, in turn, begin to lose their minds. So, I lie in bed. Still. Because I told myself so and I am not that crazy yet but I am getting there. I've stayed in bed for days before. Why can't I do it again?
    Bang Bang. They want me to get up. Mother's making noises of frustration. But really loneliness. "Wake up, wake up, wake up" translates to, "Why can't we be friends?". I'm sorry. "Knock, knock, knock" translates to, "Are you still breathing?". Yes, but no one hears me. "I'm sorry". You shouldn't be. It's not you whom I want listening.
    Do something. Work. No. Paint. No. Read. Maybe. Write. No. The mind controls the limbs and senses and my mind is out of commission. Each voice within gathers around to scream in unison, "YOU CAN'T CREATE!" Belief in self is underestimated. I trust these voices more than I know, or else I would be out of bed and creating art or something to be proud of. To prove I am alive and worth the oxygen. Instead, my lids greet eachother and lure the voices to sleep. A rest they constantly need. So, I start to dream: Life. Funeral. Wake up. No. Ghosts. Hello, I haven't seen you in awhile. I hope you are OK. Scared. Purple sky and it is bleeding. Cannot move my feet. Twister. Twister. Killer. Killer. Beauties screaming. Run. Run. Cannot move my feet. Broken bones( but I don't feel them) the sight of which is scary. Breathe. Knock. Knock. "Yes, I'm breathing." What? Familiar face. Safe. I know you but I miss you. Beauty. Love and sadness, hand in hand. And I would hold yours if it created harmony between the two. So, in hope, I do. Wake up. No. Wake up. NO. WAKE UP! fuck. I am not lonely in my dreams. Why can't I remain asleep? Lids part and it is dark in here still. But I know I am awake because I am alone.
    I don't want to get up. "Lie here", says the voice in my head. Or one of them. Or maybe they are silent and I am not moving because I'm dead. Searching anywhere for a pulse...searching, searching. Never was good at finding one or feeling one. Ah, there it is. So, I lie in bed. Still. Because I must have told myself to. Belief in self is underestimated.
    This is my life. And I live it without doing. Without moving. I live it inside my head...with all the voices. But i'm not crazy.




    Submitted on 2008-01-08 18:32:57     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      hey, cool i liked having trouble getting out of bed today myself.
    The thing the piece seemed to lack most was a structure, definitely felt unbalenced. Noticed this particularly on the second use of the word 'lid'. The title leads me to beleive the idea is an unconcious improvisation but just suggesting a semi structure to it. perhaps stream to get the main body and then restructure conciously. if you wanna stick with total improv ive been improvising for the last few years musically and i find structure is developed with practise over time. hope that makes some sence. all the best
    | Posted on 2008-01-09 00:00:00 | by billythebrand | [ Reply to This ]


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