It's 26th
inside the train
reseed the sorrow grain
Dreamt of offlines
where the steel scatters moan
all the night it would burn
It's 28th
beside the digi-lover
you look all the dust over
See the offlines you've dreamt of
you were rubbed by the psycho
and your soul are not yours anymore
"I amar prestar aen..."*
"It’s getting bad, Dad—A stewardess was stabbed—They seem to have
knives and Mace—They said they have a bomb—It’s getting very bad
on the plane—Passengers are throwing up and getting sick—The
plane is making jerky movements—I don’t think the pilot is flying the
plane—I think we are going down—I think they intend to go to
Chicago or someplace and fly into a building—Don’t worry, Dad—
If it happens, it’ll be very fast—My God,my God."
-- Peter Hanson's last words over the phone
Aborad United 175 Plane
Chap 1, 9/11 Commision Report
He is a sign, a sign for the blue people. You look at him as one big idol
of radicalism which is ruined by love. You drink all night. You
chain-smoke like a train. May be you wear white suit and keep your gaze on
something over far far nowhere horizons. You'd become HB, come out as one
little HB. You find yourself in him and his circumstances; "We've always
been to Casablanca, once.". Puff on your cigarette, drink your now warm
whiskey shot and whisper to yourself : "Of all the gin joints in all the
towns in all the world, she walks into mine."
I'm full of hate, gotta go offline quickly....I'm afraid of
cyber-murder, cyber-suicide,....I'm full of hate.....
That is what I've learnt from the eyes
A voice can always tell lies
Wheter in moans, whispers and cries
No chance
Close your eyes when the aeon myst glows
Let the reality slip from fake embraces and empty smiles.
You were like a billboard; sexy and steel cold, with all the colorful
majesty, all the highness and elegance, Busy with the lights on-lights off
business. Everybody knows that a billboard doesn't need an admirer by
nature, and sorrowfully naturally I was one.
Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive.
Fear of falling asleep at night.
Fear of not falling asleep.
Fear of the past rising up.
Fear of the present taking flight.
Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night.
Fear of electrical storms.
Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek!
Fear of dogs I've been told won't bite.
Fear of anxiety!
Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend.
Fear of running out of money.
Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this.
Fear of psychological profiles.
Fear of being late and fear of arriving before anyone else.
Fear of my children's handwriting on envelopes.
Fear they'll die before I do, and I'll feel guilty.
Fear of having to live with my mother in her old age, and mine.
Fear of confusion.
Fear this day will end on an unhappy note.
Fear of waking up to find you gone.
Fear of not loving and fear of not loving enough.
Fear that what I love will prove lethal to those I love.
Fear of death.
Fear of living too long.
Fear of death.
I've said that.
-- By Raymond Carver