" "

Fleeing entries

(a)Void (ance)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwwKFBeZr5Q

And life ended up, again, to be a daily banquet, during which every pause, among the courses, is a delusional nothingness. Not to feel the weight of almost any entity makes me crave for it. I endeavour to grip it, but it's like trying to hang on a chalk bar, failing at that, as I notice melted metal leaking from my hands. 

I'm a sieve that looses overcooked noodles and holds the starchy liquid.

I'm a carnivorous plant, squandering her reflexes and sensitivity, killing insects that will never be nourishment.

"And when the shit hits the fan..."

I so love the idiom "when the shit hits the fan"... it's so ... vividly figurative. You imagine a ton of crap spewing from somewhere above and crashing on a giant propeller fan.

I feel this image so present at this moment of my life. I also feel like someone's breathing down my neck. 

That will do (to harden the shit and be able to scrape it off)