not_property_a_dream

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help is on the way! by David Friedman [open mic]

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journal, coming out of depression

Sept 25,2023 nowhere to fly nowhere to land nowhere to sit nowhere to stand nowhere to be nowhere to go.. no place to give no one to show no purpose no plan not giving a damn no Freedom to sing no doorbell to ring no future is bright no day no night nothing is right nothing is right Lost never found up without down drifting away nowhere to stay no box to give nowhere to live help me. please. I'm dying crying gone uneasy broken Stolen I've said it before no friend no blend no night no day just darkness forever I can't snap out I can't get beyond I'm just here and gone and forgotten the song no way to get out poof and it's gone little by little I travel beyond anything that ever made any Sense It's so confusing. (HTHTFO) and H💗LD 💗N S.

notpropertyadream (1999-2021) (still trying to edit this thing)

version notpropertyadream 07/18/2021 *excerpts 1999-2021 (c) Shannon Heather Runion/ not_property_a_dream To become a woman is to slip into the night forever. Forgotten. The blackness between stars lingers around the hollows of lost hope. The night, a place of wonder, a place where a girl once dove into the caverns of the creative unconscious, a woman cannot go. I know I am not plain but a monotonous orbit surrounds me. A pack of cigarettes, a growing crack on the wall, a soul of simple subjects taking on complicated roles. I must be an alien reporting from within my own skin a foreign universe again and again intimately infinite a gaping hole where everything ought to be yet somehow it has always been with wings or not taught or lost simple and forgotten complicated and tossed into waves places nestled between us and selves unlock the answers we find again that patter that reminds us of a song no matter how long the journey we are always unwinding t...

excerpt, 2015

"... But when you look out any f****ing window you remember. Oh, sh*t. I have grown up. You don't know when exactly it happened and yet you feel even more helpless than ever before. And you are alone, rocking and there is no rocking chair. And the best years are gone and they never happened at all. The growing up happened sometime during when you were still pretending to be small or shortly thereafter. And those years were, well, time is not in a line. It goes around and around. And you were still around then. You were still around and around and around yet still so hard to be quite found..."

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