February 23rd, 2007

This may be the diary entry of the century. What Im writing, I don't know. The best way to describe this moment, this second leading on to the next: A river of warmth I feel under my cold skin. I'm feeling like pealing the layers off and letting the red drip onto this page, letting the scriptures from words of sense to sentences I can't name. Purity: where I become inferior cured by my minds misery; past tense history onto the new.
Beginnings: giving it all away, sinning silent sitting stylish stretching towards the top. No setting, no rules of writing, no typing, just bright lamps lighting igniting opening prisoned minds. I may rewind and fast-forward from time to time or flicker the switch up and down like we did when we were little kids - but keep focus. This is my story where the world becomes glorious.
I am King Richard III, a truck driver simple and true, I become alive with you. Its night time now, around 2300, 11PM. The stars are falling from the sky, every last one of them, I would'nt lie. Take a look outside and you'll see streets glimmering white, winters bleeding frozen teeth. Tonight we travel from Albuquerquee, NM, To Cheyenne, WY. There will be scarecrows and quicksand, shifting rodes that bend and breathe mist onto the streets so thick you can barely see 10 feet ahead of the headlights. A night of wide eyes and screaming heart beats. We begin our adventure only to announce there is no end, no destination ever comes.

Because it never happened but it could have.