As I write, my fingers think.
My mind listens.
My ears talk.
My mouth smells.
My skin tastes.
My eyes feel.
My heart sees.
The page I'm filling with words embraces my soul.
The only thing that never derails its proper function inside this case of imperfections, my body.
Bonded to my delusional soul, the only ink that writes for me.
And as I write the words dance to the melody of my insanity.
Creating psychotic musical notes sang only by those who suffer from my same neurosis.

And as I write, we all frolic in this enchanted world of dementia.
And this I write, tomorrow will no longer exist.
In the world others call "reality".

And as I write... my maniac self laughs at normality.

I paint my life, in a white canvas of unexplained blankness.
With my silhouette, the only brush that paints.
Using blood and tears as my only colors.
Sorrow, as my only shadow.
Creating a lifeless face a lover will soon forget.
Leaving my body longing for a new painting.
A new empty canvas to fill.
A new soul to trace my charcoal lips on
Burning my memories on his skin with every kiss.
And calling it my master piece.

Holding me firm, I can feel it incarcerating me.
With my ankles bruised from carrying the same heavy chains, day by day.
Chains, that will keep hurting my ankles with every step I take.
I can hear them squeak, tearing my tympanum with every drag.
Reminding me remorselessness that I am one more slave.
Working under its rules, shaping my life with my every breath.
Punishing me with all my memories and rewarding me with an unknown future.
At night it laughs spitefully seeing that it has caught me in its timeless web of an insomniac hex.
And in the morning it plays the same joke seeing that it has caught me in an eternal doze.
I wake up , following the ritual it has for me, slapping me in the back with its whip declaring its power over me, as my owner.
At 7:00 am  I wake up indoctrinated by a false faith" Thank You 'God' for this new day ( I thank a 'God' I do not know a 'God' I do not follow)" I suddenly feel confuse.  
7:30 am; I shower.
7:40am; I choose my outfit, one in particular that will disguise my insecurities.
7:50am; I  have breakfast. My palate already knows the taste, and it protests intensely for a new tang.
8:00am; I walk out of my house, feeling the wind through my body silencing the cacophony of the chains and the beeping of the time clock they hold.
With every beep, I realize I can be late. I rush.
9:00am; I start my ritual, managing papers in an office full of sick people, just like me.  Moored by their own chains to their own sorrows, with different time clocks and slaved by the same owner.
4:00pm; I plead it to go faster, to show me mercy. It laughs.
7:00pm; It frees me from my work routine, I thank it before it slaps me in the back again.
8:00 pm; I'm home the chains feel looser now, and I have a break.
9:00pm; I eat dinner same flavor, my palate prepares to taste the same.
10;00pm; It orders me to go to bed, to laugh again about by insomnia and wake me up with no pity.
It doesn't care about what I need, I go under its rules.
It threatens me everyday with my memories and it frightens me with an unknown tomorrow.
And, I only have 24 hours each day,60 minutes in each hour and 60 seconds in each minute to do what the calendar of life has for me .
I was convicted with a human felony, and I am currently serving a life sentence in this time machine.
I am cursed by time and my challenge is to defeat procrastination and monotony.