There was a time when I would value my own thoughts and words. I think as time goes on, a combination of weariness and empty headed-ness has taken over. Too tired to look anymore. To speak, to eat, even when hungry.
Have I turned into one of Pavlovs dogs? Have I become a junky? Why this appetite? Why are needs so piercingly simple? I have always believed in the power of the present. Yet, it somehow eludes me. Sometimes in a picture. A picture of you. What is this power you have over me? Its like a disease, completely out of my control. There is no rational reason for me to feel this way. Is it witchcraft? Not the Sinatra kind, a real witchcraft. Are you trying to destroy me and why?
I have turned into a dog.
I dont know when this happened.
Your eyes and your smile branded me.
I had no idea of the size of the regret.
La enorme distancia.
The enormous distance.
The wake in your heart, when someone swims through it,