etherized upon a table

How could I explain it to you? How could I tear open the bosom of this tale, and let the agony flow. You suppose its hard? I concur no more than I have been through. Perhaps, I could symbolize it. Yeah, thats what they do - thats what they do when they fail to express themself to their commarades, and friends. Thats exactly what they do when they are past the barriers of common comprehension, they opt for slow poisoning. People do not want to hear about it, but are rendered ineptly helpless against the spearing metaphors. Metaphor is like a snake that creeps up to their throats while they sleep.

There is a chair in that corner. Nobody has sat on it for months. There hangs a jacket on it. The seat is covered with a thin film of dust. Its been beset to disposing when some time is available to clean up. A wasted chair.

This man sits there by the mailboxes on his wheel chair. He has an expression of emptiness. I cant help but wonder about his life each time I drive by. There is this solitude in his eyes, this vacum which has sucked all expression from his face. There is never a smile to be seen. His wrinkled face is a time line of events of stagnancy. Time has this pernicious capacity of inertia. It halts, sort of brakes, when life is taking turns on the corners of hardships; and sometimes there are only turns and no straight roads in the puzzle of life. He will die one day, on the same wheel chair with the same blank face of pain - same face of no complains. There may not be a tear in his eye.

This lies a hair brush on the dressing table. It is tangled with the hair I have lost - spawned webs of hair. I do not use it anymore. Why? Perhaps, its too dirty, and old. Perhaps, it reminds me when I had a full scalp of hair. Whatever the reason, it will just lay there till someone just throw it away, and I will not even notice.

Dostoevsky's Idiot is next to my bed side table. I read it till almost the end, but never finished it. I am too afraid to discover formyself Prince Myshkin's doom. I will put it in my library of books, so it always reminds me of this guilt.