The precursor for reality.
It is something that fuels me.
As reality in my mind would suggest all that is normal.
Becomes some kind of effigy in terms of shock value.
Drama in the courtroom?
What of it?
That trial and error that runs through your mind.
The mind of all your weaknesses,
that you lack self esteem and have insecurity of.
To tremble in fear.
Like you are the best player on the field,
everyone watching your every move.
How does this make you react?
This is an inferiority complex as I would have it
- though no one wants.
Is it that obvious to the audience?
That my inferiority is a symbol.
A symbol.
To mock the world with,
with my incredible sense of guilt.
To process and presume the justice of purging my senses.
Into a fascination of some other world.
Some other dimension in time.
Rewind. . .
Fast forward.
Rewinding, recording every movement,
every thought.
Each memory wiring the past into visions of a future,
and what it might hold.
Perhaps, perhaps this time around. . .
I will have found.
Found that precious action I must have made in life.
The right action to have taken my life in a different direction.
Yet, not feel like a suicide.
As I said before,
suicides are like an inferiority complex gone.
Gone to the birds.
So it is there I am.
I fly.
Fly to distant shores of my youth cradled into one.
(I write to record what may have been.)
A destiny unlike any other word ever seen before.
The world make-believe's itself to be true.
And the greatest of virtues is a logical transposition of mind.
It takes genius to find.
- Marco
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