This is an experiment in stream of conscious writing. Alot of writers use it to get to the core of what they want to say...the idea is to just write whatever pops into that head of yours and not to stop til your hand gets tired. It doesn't need to have flow, it is a very loose prose.
Laughter spills like wine and we drown in fun. I'm a particle of truth and I dissipate in this house of lies. At the bar I buy a schooner of I-don't-care-anymore and I wonder who I have become and where to find the peace of all the pieces of this life. I wrinkle in the night and wake with sleep queued up before me. I turn to tattooed arms in the prayer that ink can save my world from spinning. And I touch the tattooed arms and I am satisfied that it still moves under the skin and that only God can change me. And I pray; but for what I do not know. I live numb, then sad, then brave, then powerful, then sad. Powerful comes before sad. Always. I wonder if I feel these thoughts from a life that has told me so or if it's because there is truth in them.
For the spirit is life and the flesh is death. So can we tattoo the flesh so no one will ever know who we became?
