I am writing this poem without having seen the end of it, without thinking of what can emerge from this process or not, much like hatching an egg, a child in the incubator of the womb, because all creation is birth and all death is anti-birth; I am a schemer in a room of humans, I am less than everyone because I recognise that I am not everyone; I am constantly drawn to superlatives and statements of the id, I am talking to nobody in particular except the wall, this wall my lover my destiny, the wall in front of which all motion ends, all travel stops, all energy disperses; I am so lonely that I am surrounded by people who care about me as long as I care about them; I am going to take all of these and throw them out into the void, a daily chore, the rinse and repeat of dirty leftover glasses in the sink; even in chaos and nonconformity all my thoughts begin with “I”, begin with me; I know I am not good because I am not selfless, and I am so selfish that everything becomes transactional, crossing the road without looking twice, crossing the road at a point full of blind corners; this tremendous momentum meeting monstrous inertia; I am hurtling like a meteor past a planet of my destiny, because everything I write is but a sideswipe at destiny, I am thinking of burial always, I am thinking of the endless stream of commas and misused semicolons, I am always thinking when I should not be; I want to be a gear in a machine somewhere, so I can be useful without having to think, without having to be noticed – it pains me that people know me, it pains me that people don’t – I want to be alive but unconscious, to go through the motions of evolution and natural selection – sometimes when I don’t think about myself I think about love and how I don’t have enough of it – I am so starved for something I have never needed that I am slowly eating my tongue.
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I’m going to try and do free-writing exercises as much as I can, where I type for 5 minutes without thinking too much about what I’m doing. Hopefully something interesting is created after, maybe or maybe not. That’s what anyone can hope for, really.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way.