Bipolar Stream of conciousness

A thought is brewing: “Tomorrow is going to be ok, I think; I hope that thing will be fine. I miss my lover. I wonder what Sontag’s politics was; need to check that out.” My eyes languid, phlegm is commencing, but then:

“This system is terrible: We treat animals like products, and the earth as our infinite source and dustbin. I am going to write an essay on this. Ah! I really like my quirky character. Inoculating a Cimmerian radiance could, perhaps, add a new vibe to the novel, a different voice. All my other characters are whimsical. I wonder if this makes them one dimensional, like marvel superheroes. I should get into marvel and sci-fi; expand pantry of genres. But it could become a plethora. Nothing is excess is good. Oh… I should have slept 2 hours ago. I wonder if my lover is asleep. I should call her… nah, it is too late and you guys are pretty new. Steer clear of coming across too clingy. Hmmm, is she becoming the nucleus of my life… Thoughts of her is vacuuming most of my time. Time is not mine; what kind of egoism is that? There is no such thing as time, anyway. But, could I be some kind of egoist? Oh, no! I do not want to be selfish. Seriously, I remember manipulating ambivalent friends so I could get that coffee I like. Ah! I am so manipulative. This needs to halt. German is a great language, all I know is halt. One of my characters is German, a poet. Poems should be included in the book; it will enrich the story. But what kind of poem. About love, maybe…

‘Her eyes so bright and green, a sheen over my yearning for a beam – of life. Death so unthreatening; her life my armour, and I feel no karma. The strata, just the linage of rocks on a precipice. Her perceptive mind, my delight; My admiration, her contrived smile… The black bile can seep – it metamorphises into words of wisdom…’

Ah! That sounds way too Shakespearean. Maybe something about life:

‘Dwelling in the inner circle of life, awaiting the next abomination: A commercial coffee; hair tided so traditionally, if it was a phrase, it will be a platitude; a boring movie. There is that may sooth me – a new bud, a back rub, a tub – bubbles and water.’

Oh, wait! How did I fall asleep?


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