The attempt to police one's thought.
Standing in the kitchen, apropos of nothing, I should kill myself.
Question being, with regards to, the source, of, and....
For increased titillation, presume the source to be a disembodied intelligence. Ghost, demon, what have you.
Or otherwise, just the same tired circular loops of self-contained thought, birthed sometime in the mid-90s and now refined into solid, well-furrowed habit.
For no legitimate reason.
All of the time.
Policing the dumbest of phantoms, especially for one who is afraid of death.
No comments:
Post a Comment