I don't know what I'm supposed to feel anymore.

Grizzled veteran.

Soaked in alcohol.

Trying to forget.

But the morning will come. New light. Clear thoughts. Thoughts you don't want to hear. Thoughts why you drink.

Why you try to forget.

You don't like where you are. The role the universe picked for you. You know you're supposed to be here, the way it is supposed to be. Supposed. Ugly word. You don't want to be there. But it doesn't matter what you think.

It feels unfair, but as soon as you accept your role, it will be okey. But how can you be ok with what you see.With what you feel.

The tragedy of it all. Knowing that they will learn. Learn about life. Lose their naivety. Lose that unsoiled look, on how life is supposed to be.

You don't want them to learn. You want them to keep that outlook on life. Never get to that point where you have been. And went beyond.

You think you don't care anymore. You think you've seen so much, it doesn't get to you anymore. But when the blood flows, soils the clear water, it has gone down the stream without you being able to do anything about it. You try to shout, tell them to stay back. Don't bleed in the water. Let it be clean, let it flow.

But they stray near. Try to get to you. They feel you can help them. They step into the river. That clean river of promises. They talk. But you don't hear them anymore. Their faces, added to a long line of empty shells. You try to forget.

Forget they talked. Forget they tried. You wish for another start. But the blood is there now. The water has been soiled.

Again.

Another empty promise.

But they'll find you again.

And the blood...

It will flow again.



They say an end can be a start
Feels like I've been buried yet I'm still alive
It's like a bad day that never ends
I feel the chaos around me

A thing I don't try to deny
I'd better learn to accept that
There are things in my life that I can't control

They say love ain't nothing but a sore
I don't even know what love is
Too many tears have had to fall
Don't you know I'm so tired of it all

I have known terror dizzy spells
Finding out the secrets words won't tell
Whatever it is it can't be named
There's a part of my world that' s fading away

You know I don't want to be clever
To be brilliant or superior
True like ice, true like fire
Now I know that a breeze can blow me away

Now I know there's much more dignity
In defeat than in the brightest victory
I'm losing my balance on the tight rope
Tell me please, tell me please, tell me please...

If I ever feel better
Remind me to spend some good time with you
You can give me your number
When it's all over I'll let you know

Hang on to the good days
I can lean on my friends
They help me going through hard times

But I'm feeding the enemy
I'm in league with the foe
Blame me for what's happening
I can't try, I can't try, I can't try...

No one knows the hard times I went through
If happiness came I miss the call
The stormy days ain't over
I've tried and lost know I think that I pay the cost

Now I've watched all my castles fall
They were made of dust, after all

Someday all this mess will make me laugh
I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait...

It's like somebody took my place
I ain't even playing my own game
The rules have changed well I didn't know
There are things in my life I can't control

Dark is the night, cold is the ground
In the circular solitude of my heart
As one who strives a hill to climb
I am sure I'll come through I don't know how

They say an end can be a start
Feels like I've been buried yet I'm still alive
I'm losing my balance on the tight rope
Tell me please, tell me please, tell me please...

If I ever feel better
Remind me to spend some good time with you
You can give me your number

When it's all over


I'll let you know.

When time becomes pain

It is shredded wheat. Not frosted. A big block of it in a plain white bowl, half full of milk.
It is on a table, where a man sits. There is no other food on the table.

The man is dressed in a white shirt and black slacks, and he'll put on a tie when he's finished.
Maybe he's not alone, it's just very early and his family is still asleep. He takes his spoon and
turns the block of shredded wheat over in its bowl, so that the other side can soak. He feels his
hunger, but he waits anyway. After a period of time, of a length roughly the same as yesterday,
and the day before (this time-period has become instinctual for him), he picks up his spoon and
begins to break the block up. Not completely of course, just into chunks that fit squarely onto
the spoon. The chunks usually have one side that's soggy and one side that's still a little bit crunchy.
The way he spoons each into his mouth, along with an appropriate quantity of milk, puts the
crunchy side at his teeth and the soggy side on his tongue.

As he chews, the crunchy side gets pulverized while the soggy side is mashed up by the natural
motion of the tongue while chewing. When he has eaten all the chunks, there is still milk left in
the bowl, and in it the crumbs that resulted from breaking the initial block. He does not raise the
bowl to his lips to drink the remainder; even though no one is there to see, he sticks to his etiquette
and dutifully drains the bowl spoonful by spoonful. When he is finished, there are still crumbs in
the bowl. He gets up from the table, takes the bowl to the sink, and quickly rinses it out.

He leaves the bowl in the sink; it will be dealt with later. He walks away to get his things, and then
he leaves.

The sun has not yet risen.