MINIMALISM AT ITS BEST.

i think that maybe i should make more art

i feel like activity in the wasteland that is diaryland has started to pick up lately. are we finally starting to recover from the huge server crash of whatever year it was, in whatever virtual universe? i miss the days when we were thriving, bursting with words and poems, the days before 'emo' actually became a cultural explosion, cool and then shortly thereafter, uncool. ha.

stay up late and smear paint with the pads of my fingers, twisting leadbased pigments pasted on brushes against heavy weighted papers,

maybe take more photographs, simple black and white eternities and immortalities frozen once more in negatives and positives.

last night could not stop 
the manic races

downtrodden the heroes of my thoughts

last night repeating the mantra
'don't think. only sleep.' 
only to wake up and find it worked; a first,

i always feel like maybe it is not me that really belongs in this body. like maybe i belong in a different body, a body with someone else's mind. there are people who, all the time, talk about how they were born in the wrong body, gender crisis, boys saying they were meant to be girls and girls saying they were meant to be boys.. well i was born the wrong person, too.

this is my identity crisis. i feel like a black hole, its cliche, i know. but how do black holes translate into human social order? i don't know what i'm supposed to be on the outside