i’m nearly somewhere that matters to be at. there is much going on “upstairs”, and in the “mezzanine”, the “basement” and “kitchen” as well. does that not sound like too much to be happening all at once? should i not be scared, for almost something will short-trip, crackle, burn out and explode. yes i am scared. in the simplest terms, worried shaken insecure. to fear oneself is the sharpest of fears, for you cannot run away- and if you could, it would be for sure a damn bad idea. the underground is a place by its very nature soundless, or perhaps by the same nature too loud that it’s deafening. like all the colours coming together to make a white. (fati that’s ironic, or it just doesn’t make sense)
forget sense my dear, forget it, for the love of God. in the underground, look up at the stars, for the daily life gives you no such luxury. write songs of broken hearts, crusade for souls lost, give a damn. in the underground let the worms eat away at your flesh dying, let the flowers seed into your being redefining. in the underground let go of all the knowing, break the ego into multiple pieces, then burn them down and scatter them all about the graveyard, may they never be found. in the underground re-live death again and again. in the underground you are nameless, faithless, reason-less, senseless, and forevermore-less. less and less until there is nothing that could be more of what it is.
in the underground you need not your memories, you need only to forget who you are, and what everything is all about. for but wait, for when you will rise. the steps you take for the first time, will do the remembering for you.
that’s it for today i think. my confusion is clear, and i cannot bear to look at it face on, or from any angle for that matter. below is a piece written just before i had termed the depression as officially that. sometimes retracing our steps is not such a bad thing.