skinslife

Its 03.52 now. Headphones clawing around my neck, eyes tense but focused. Tired, but not yet at the point of fatigue. The window is open, just the top part. The air that seeps in isn't too bad, just a bit metallic in taste and textured in smell. Textures of a thousand turns of tide from the oceanic abyss. I'm thinking too much. It happens sometimes. I think faster than i can think, if such a thing is possible. Its like my subconcious is always a step ahead, like a small kid yelling at you when you go the wrong way, trying desperately to guide you back to the right neural path. Scratching my right eyelid is both pleasure and pain. It was itchy, the kind of vague itchy that you can ignore but don't for the recreation of scratching, the noise like a filthy scab being scrubbed off with a wire brush. If you put such a scab in your mouth it'd taste salty. Textured like chicken skin, but salty in a more natural way... I like the nighttime. Its quiet. I can think. Last year i spent hours at night just lying awake, thinking. It was mostly hopes and wishes, but i came to some firm conclusions. I miss the times when i didn't know who i was and what i thought. Now i know both so well i want to escape myself. I'm an open individual, but i don't feel open enough. I should join a pilates class. I have on my desk: tv, monitor, two cans of deoderant, mouse, apple notepad, apple pen, toilet roll, empty cup with residual coffee from four hours previous, ipod headphones, mouse mat, ruler. I can hear distant noises. I hear the stone roses from my headphones around my neck, that and the claketty clak of my keyboard are the first few. I'm deaf in my right ear, i woke up with it blocked three days ago... hope it subsides. I moved over to the window a second ago. I listened out to hear whatever i could hear. I heard a lot. I heard a shout from a knacker, which my imagination leads me to think is probably the slow knacker that stops to take a piss while walking with his friends, they walk on cause they don't actually want him around. He shouts and they keep walking so he trots into a run and grabs one of them, who calmly smacks him in the mouth and leaves him there on the road, unconcious, bleeding blood thats black tonight but will stain red tomorrow. He'll get up in an hour, walk home alone and maybe cry when thinking what his life would've been like had he not grown up in a council estate. Its unfortunate, but true. I heard a siren. Probably an abusive cop toying with some poor kid who's out on the street not knowing where the fuck he is or what he's doing. The cop and his buddy will chase him slowly in the car until he wets himself with fright, turn slowly and shamefully hang his head in defeat. The cops will laugh nastily at the stain on his jeans before driving on. I heard the whoosh of the city. I hope you know what i mean. Its just that whooshing sound you hear at night but never in the day time. I think its the wind. Its the wind and the noise you don't hear when everyone's awake to soak up the waves. I'm going to bed soon, my eyes are reaching breaking point. I feel like someone's picked me up and thrown me about the room, wall to wall until i collapse in a corner and wretchedly reach for my bedsheets. Which of course will be icy cold. These are the ramblings of a fool, yet i feel somewhat elated by spending time on thinking..... Hope everyone wakes up to a nice day............. night.