Astray

I just wonder why I always have to bury my deepest feelings in the past. Sometimes the choice is to kill or to be killed - in my case, to suffer or to bury the suffering. Along with dreams. Because they're just unseparable - I don't feel pain when it comes from something I don't cherish. And here - once again, putting one cross after another, trying to forget and not to give a damn. But that results only in sensual disorder and sexual conveyor - when I'm in the mood, I call it "rock'n'roll"... But these memories always come back, like ghosts return to the abandoned house they inhabited long ago. They surround me, and there's something like reproach and regret in their luminous eyes - and that causes real pain. When it starts to seem that these flashbacks are your real life, I begin thinking that there's just one step before I touch the wall of insanity.

I have to hold on anyway. But to keep this strength I should either live my dream, or kill it to get rid of those quicksilver reflections.