Sellophane

Thoughts captured in pretty red capsules. Swallow them whole. With diet coke or a cup of ice tea. Consume over-spiced potato wedges and think about stuff you don't really care about. Buy a case of blank CD-Roms and then fill them up with useless, forgettable junk so as to systematically preserve and then forget these things. Laugh like a baboon at jokes that you don't really find funny.
I need smokes.
It's amazing how dependent I have become on these cancer sticks. And that too in such a short time. Well not really, is five years short for a eighteen year old. Smokes of randomized precision bathed in nicotine.
Plastic Thoughts and Gelatine Trees.
One messed up dream.
Dead goldfishes floating in the stale murky waters of a thousand minds. Long Distance Phone calls. Dire Straits and acoustic solos dried and kept to toast alongside an empty expired packet of malboro cigarettes.
What is the purpose of a purpose?
An aim, something to achieve. But why? What's the point? We are goldfishes here.
How would you die?
Would you float or sink?


Image: Alfred Stieglitz- Equivalent Series