In minutes, the tiny children will embark on the walk so many previous generations have. It is nights like this that I wonder what my own son is doing. Then, there was silence. I paint pictures to better express the horrid emptiness that consumes my body. Call it mental-masturbation. I draw faces to better see who I am… if I can’t find me; I take on a new face.
October 31, 2001
If only I could love
In minutes, the tiny children will embark on the walk so many previous generations have. It is nights like this that I wonder what my own son is doing. Then, there was silence. I paint pictures to better express the horrid emptiness that consumes my body. Call it mental-masturbation. I draw faces to better see who I am… if I can’t find me; I take on a new face.
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