June 17, 2005

Lights

After all, I know it is in the glare of the strobe light where I feel most at home, where I can stare at it endlessly, wondering what it is all about, not knowing who is looking at me or even who else is there; it is happiness for me, it is belonging, it is where I am nobody and everybody I've ever wanted to be at the same time. It is where you do not know me, it is where you cannot understand me, it is where I look away into the expression that has nothing to say to me, away from the empty expressions that look at me from the other side.

It is where your world is bifurcated from mine by the simple thread of the realms of possibility; it is where every moment lived is a waking dream, it is where those alive are set apart from the living dead who know not the pleasures of the world unknown, held back by the norms and rigours of the world known. It is where your hand reaches out into the deep dark abyss, never to be held, never to be caressed, never to be rescued. It is your greatest pleasure, which is your greatest pain in not having someone to share it with.