"Isolation"endless book: index card, ink.
a journal-type book, i wanted to make a book one night and just started writing. The poem has no beginning or end, and is meant to be read in person (take THAT technology!) I made it to explain how bored, isolated and depressed i can get, and how it was that bad this summer.
Text from this page:
Endings, I said to myself,
as the clock turned to Midnight.
Tomorrow is a beginning.
Now is an ending.
But things never seem to end anymore.
They just seem to stretch on endlessly,
one day is much like the other.
as the clock turned to Midnight.
Tomorrow is a beginning.
Now is an ending.
But things never seem to end anymore.
They just seem to stretch on endlessly,
one day is much like the other.
I feel like I'm in a foreign country,
and don't know the language.
You were born, and you die some day.
That's all i know.
That's all anybody knows.
You speak, your lips move,
But i hear nothing.
I am listening to something far away.
No clouds are in the sky.
I sit and watch the bubbles
meander slowly up the glass of ginger ale.
I've nothing to say.
Only a lonely Jay calls out.
All else is silent.
I tried to keep a diary,
but nothing seems to happen
worth writing about.
I'm just here.
I fear being here forever,
but I also fear the future,
when i won't be here
anymore.
and don't know the language.
You were born, and you die some day.
That's all i know.
That's all anybody knows.
You speak, your lips move,
But i hear nothing.
I am listening to something far away.
No clouds are in the sky.
I sit and watch the bubbles
meander slowly up the glass of ginger ale.
I've nothing to say.
Only a lonely Jay calls out.
All else is silent.
I tried to keep a diary,
but nothing seems to happen
worth writing about.
I'm just here.
I fear being here forever,
but I also fear the future,
when i won't be here
anymore.
now...can you guess what order i wrote them in?
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