my weary bones have been laid across this barren desert ground…

and the only sound my heart can hear is dry death all around…

a familiar freedom, a familiar enslavement….the strangest place i’ve ever been,

the most beautiful face i’ve ever seen, a glimpse of grace caught in between…

somewhere friends and lovers lie waiting yet still wanting.

“Love is substance, lust illusion. only in the surge of passion do they linger in confusion.”

“when all the world is in danger, the man who flees from the word of God seals himself off in his solitude, willing neither to see nor to hear anything of what others are doing. his destiny is no longer their destiny. he sleeps…”–jaques ellul

every time i re-enter the so-called everyday life of the rest of the world, i feel more and more like an alien creature. every bar i’ve ever been in always has the same kinds of people doing the same kinds of things: watching sports on television, chain-smoking, and drinking themselves into oblivion. i can hardly stomach the foggy air and mind-numbing conversations. talk of work, school, relationships…who’s gonna win the superbowl? who the hell cares? i step outside so i can breathe again.

surely this sad existence would wake a few dreamers from their silent slumber, could they only break the repetitious cycle of daily habits. work-eat-sleep-work-eat-sleep-work-eat-sleep-work-eat-die? i wish i could wake up the world….but maybe i’m the one who’s asleep.


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