The Process of My Mind..

Ingelheim, Deutschland
16 August, 2007


In a cold corner of the kitchen floor, I'm sitting with a mug pressed against my lips, and a dirty ashtray set by my ankle. Looking through the steam rising from my coffee, I find myself taken by a moment of clarity... tranquility.

A clear and concise message comes to me as words form in the eye of my mind. The letters seem to fall into place with such certainty that I believe there's a force sucking them in from the farthest reaches of my mind.

"The stricture is a pale reprimand to the loveliness of the crime."

The only thing that attempts to counter the cold reaching up at me from the tiles of the floor is a small, red candle on a table across the room. It's flame dances teasingly at me, tempting me with a freedom only I can grant myself.

I have a free and unrelenting spirit, this mental prison I find myself in is of my own accord. The windows of my mind have darkened into a dull gray, the color of old, tired, steel.

My spirit beckons, "why?".

It is when this thing inside me moves, when it speaks, does my world change and my emotions shift. A smile breaks from the corners of my mouth adding a glimmer to the moisture in my eyes.

A feeling of rebellion and invincibility that could possibly be false, bubbles up inside me and again like a mantra, the silence of my voice screams inside my head........

"The stricture is a pale reprimand to the loveliness of the crime"

My mind jumps to the image of the thing that I love. I am transported to a time in my memory when I held that which I love in my arms. In this moment, this moment precisely, the commanding power of my heart is obvious. The proverbial weights drop off my shoulders, breaking the chains that bound them to me.

I think that if anyone was present, they would've witnessed the exact point in which the light returned to my face.

Somewhere between the cold shadows of this room and the blinding warmth of the thoughts I'm clutching onto, I find comfort in knowing that with all the consequences that have yet to befall me, I will always have that sanctuary with my love waiting for me -- whether it be in a spiritual or physical realm.

And I think when you acknowledge such a thing to be true, there is nothing out there capable of dampening that surge.

As I get up off the floor, I light that cigarette I've been toying with, I pour whats left of my cold coffee into the sink and I walk over to that red candle.

Now, my laugh is reminiscent of childhood falls, and as I watch the smoke lingering above the flame I've just blown out, I find its all been worth it and I need only to count the days till the line between memory and reality fades into nothing.

Taking another drag from my cigarette, I breathe in and nod... I see its all so simple, its all so disturbingly and delightfully clear.

"The stricture is a pale reprimand to the loveliness of the crime."