To Bear the Human Mind
I write upon a blank computer screen, producing words for the mere practice, the mere art of them making an appearance that is in shape constant, bland really, but in experience, profound. For this I read the prose of seemingly educated authors. A text that placed next to any other text, is more or less identical, but contains experience that is so versatile; sometimes classified as punishment, yet in another space, pleasure. I dive in, to an extent, to escape my life, and then to a greater degree, to gain perspective on my life that wasn’t present before. Yet, I don’t think I am gaining perspective. For if I was, then I could gain it, and at the snap of my fingers, change it for my own. No, I am not gaining perspective, I am gaining language. I am rephrasing that which already exists in my mind; I am placing new words to the never ending turmoil, and I am attempting at making it...