Insomnia

Once again I have no sleep tonight.
My mind is running by a thousand miles, dashing, fleeing,
measuring the past through memories, dull and vivid, far and near..
the present through lively feelings and overwhelming emotions,
the future through wistful dreams and formidable fears.

Time once again is not counted in minutes and hours,
but in glances, breaths and heartbeats.

Do I have what I want? Do I want what I have? Would I know if I did?

I don't fit anywhere anymore. My house can't contain me, my body can't contain me, the existing reality can't contain me.

I get lost again in blue seas and blue glances and blue feelings, in deep blue voices of comfort and hope.

I sink into the world I long for as I take off from a world that neither wants nor needs me.

I exist in both places, I walk in both paths, it exhausts, wears me out to be while not being, to know and suspect, to not know and yet be certain. I'm spent but I hold. I fly around the earth and crawl among clouds; I sing in silence and talk in tears. And, however infeasible, whoever does not comprehend my silence cannot ever comprehend my words...

Now, there is no place to tolerate me; there is nobody I can accept. The sun saddens me and the moon blinds my eyes, there is no shooting star to make a wish upon. The clouds ignore me, the rain passes me by, lightning meticulously avoids me. Seasons have ceased to exist, they have no meaning, they have become one, and still... everything is in my mind.

Actually, in reality I walk, talk, think too little and feel too much. In reality the sun burns my skin, the rain drenches me to the bone, lightning strikes indiscriminately, the stars are shooting every night but I can't see them, I can't see anything, because actually, in reality I'm sleeping...

......... I'm speeding down the highway in escape velocity with no destination.
Turns have transformed to straight lines, the road is empty, vacant, the sun breaks in the far distance, it's dawn and nature awakens with the thunderous roar of my engine. My heart beats like a drum, my head is throbbing, my eyes are burning, I laugh, I disown everything, I never really owned anything, I don't look back. No reason. No way.

No breaks.

[2007]

And so, it's begun...

So... how does one begin blogging, anyway? Even when the intent is clear, specific: To lay down one's thoughts, to organize what's previously been written at moments of intense emotion, bright flash, sheer boredom, or to even share one speck of feeling, impression or belief, certain or unsure, solid or frail. How does one go about introducing oneself to the world? With the trite... Hi, I'm X, or V. or whatever, I like the sound my keyboard makes when I type, so I decided to become a blogger... a totally incidental one, apparently. I'm no writer. I'm basically a reader. A keen reader, a bookworm. I can chew up a dozen of them within a two-months' time. But readers always dream about being writers, don't they? Don't we?...

Words... are to mind what colors are to a blank, perfectly white, fresh canvas. You pick up a word, an expression, a color, and start painting. Start writing. By the time a sentence is over, you have formed the outline of a figure. Any figure. Add another one, the two figures start to interact. Enrich it with expression, the canvas takes on color, emotion. Press the brush harder, thrust forward, sway it manically, stroke the canvas gently with it. If you're lucky -or talented, or persistent, or all of the above- enough, you might even get to produce a work of art. If not, well, at least you got it out of your system. At any rate, you're doing something, instead of nothing. And that ought to count for something.

And so, it's begun, the fairy tale of one...