Repeated Absences

i believed life's a poem too, françois. life goes on. time goes on. flashes of life, flashes of blue skies, flashes of flowers blooming. you hear a couple laughing, hugging, disgustingly in love—and you reject it all. you reject life. you turn away from life. drugs are the devil, yet, they are also the only light that has ever bothered to hold you—and isn't it better to die with light curled against your skin than to live in a world that offers only nothingness? it's all numb. life looked at you once, decided you didn't fit, and walked away. the poem was never written for you at all. should be so concerning that every film i like always have the same look on life, huumm......