I change course everyday which is probably why I can't keep up.

my thoughts are moving at the speed of sound,
the speed of light
and they never slow down.
I can't seem to grasp pleasant thoughts, for they escape me too fast. I tend to catch the bad ones and exercise them to death.

I used to believe in catharsis in that the razor running across my thigh was simply an extension of the paintbrush across the canvas.  the blood was just tangible emotions dripping off of my razor, my paintbrush. "art" was painful but it was there for me no matter what.

I long ago disproved any theory of me fitting into a mold. I don't think any mold is deep enough to fit everything that comes with me. the day that they find such a mold will be the day i fully understand myself.

they'll never find it.