ContrADICTED (NYC)

And sometimes it's fun to write like a lunatic, like somebody who lost their mind but found their soul buried under a large pile of contradictions; a person who is fed up with the way life used to be and is only interested in today.  Somebody who is a blurry photo of their hopes and dreams; and endless story of love, lust, and destruction.  Somebody liable to leave town on a whim only to return because they forgot their charger and water bottle. "Forget it," they say after any words they speak that hold any weight. "Don't worry", when they themselves are worried about nothing and everything. About the way they look alone in a room, or the way they think alone in their heads. The future looks promising but they promised not to look.  So instead they dance, and move, and shake to every worldly vibration in existence.  Somebody who lives by no morals or general code of conduct.  Guided only by light and sound in a silent cave, by the screams of the mute and visions of the blind.  They forget to remember what they forgot, so instead they speak to those who don't listen and only listen to those who don't speak. They love to be uncomfortable but are uncomfortable by love.  So when the day ends and night begins they rest their feet on a pillow and take a loose breath, for it is the darkness of the day that reveals the light of the night and only somebody who is always wrong could ever be right.