soledad

I am not sure what they call this era. Modernity, post-modernity, recession, depression, crisis. It all refers to the same phenomenon. Everyone is lost. Everyone is running. Everyone is alone.

We all scream about sexual freedom and equality. We want control of our own bodies. We hold a disbelief in God, in love, in anything more infinite than space. And then we find ourselves enslaved by ourselves, by our freedom, by our solitude. We have compromised our emotional sanity and stability for sexual endeavors, our bodies for experimentation. We are all looking into a mirror, shattered, diffracting light in one thousand directions.

There are so many faces in New York City. Brown ones, sallow ones, baby ones, poor ones, dead ones. Everyone's eyes are empty, vacuous, soulless. We all look exactly the same--tired, impatient, and wet from all the rain.

Liberate us from the wakeful world. Scream about sleep.