Friday, August 18, 2006

tHE gLASS bEAD gAME*

Yesterday was a difficult travail; OCD worsens with stress, the anxieties fuelled by queasy thinking, serotonin(lessness), neurons firing at will, a randomness that inhibits inhibition. I inhibit nothing, as my censor has been thieved from the ganglia knot that tempers mood and cantor, abutting a fontanel that never quite hardened; a ring around the rosy without a divot card or Magister Ludi; a Glass bead Game in the headiness of my head.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz