dieing to the world

I miss the road signs. I cannot navigate through even a simple town. I would never notice if you gained even ten pounds. I am letting my visual senses die so that the sound will get loud on me.

Anyone who knows me knows this, but they disagree. They wish me to be normal and they become angry. They have picked their mates based on the trivial physical. I beleive that guilt must be a factor, because sometimes they even play the biological card. Don't get me wrong, I too would be attracted to the world if that were an option.

This is confusing to you, I realize. And I would not be suprised if you don't finish reading it, becuase I know that you are a coward. How dare I? How dare I not approach you on your terms and on your level? Sometimes  I do, dummy. But many times I am trying to provoke you. Maybe you will live out your spiritual human destiny and transend the animal world.

But you misunderstand me. I don't wish for us to share the same existence. I wish to communicate with you as part of the process. I'd just as soon be the invisible man, shopping at Walmart unseen. You are wrong to assume that I want to help you or harm you or change your ways, but it would be nice to share only words with you. Words are shapeless enough for me to understand.

And if you follow me so far you already feel that quikening of your spirit and that elated sense in your mortal body. Then, your voice is loud in my ears. You are my eternal friend. It's not only your words. I can make this promise to the ever changing body that is this self, which begins right here between these breasts.

It's my birthday and I feel precious enough to live another year. I'm looking forward to dieing a little more. Don't get me wrong, I want to make time for diet and exercise but if my mind begins to hunger--and i can't promise that it won't--my body will have to starve. I cannot work fast enough to chase the myseteries of my own mind--far down the rabbit hole I go. When will it stop? Nobody knows.

When I look at my life all I see is my music. It's the reason I never feel pain. I know that I can never lose the efforts I have already made. I will continue to stack up these treasures on earth. Just like on the current record, the songs will always be new to me, as I prepare my heart and mind for the afterlife. So sorry that I ignore life on earth. You might think it unreasonable, selfish or just plain stupid but it's who the heLl cares what you think. Do you even care?

Though I feel fatigued, I feel wealthy. It doesn't bring me recognition but it brings me life the only way I know how to live. I am compelled by something much greater than the music itself. I am compelled by the mystery of my own breathing. If I can't see anything else around me, I can see what the music says I am supposed to be. What does it mean that I am alive now?