A Madman's Idea

I can write a 1000 pages tonight with no thought no meaning no song. i can write them down with the vehemence of a wood-cutter with blunt rusted blade. until slowly insidiously the words eat into my brains leaving a starved larva in the midst of incoherence. i can write about the statue of death i stumbled upon right in the middle of the lake and how it refused to answer when i asked 'why do people always stumble upon you. why dont they simply embrace you'. yeah, it refused to answer but i think i read his expression. it went something like 'they hate my smell' which very frankly shocked me. 'they get used to smells' was my defence. and the statue stood speechless there in the middle of the lake. i did not speak anymore i guess it was trying to avoid me. perhaps it was just shy. i could also write about about how the statue of life stood with broken knee in the desert a few further miles down. it seemed eager to get into a conversation with me as i passed but i avoided it. perhaps i was just shy. it gave me a nasty glance as i went past him holding on to the last 'real' thought i'd once held on to as it continued to chew on what seemed like chocolate-coated ignorance.