Electra’s search for peace found in pieces;thoughts along the journey at the bend 

the dialogue within my head has been paused. it seems. like a submarine that sinks down into fathomless depth to avoid 

the pause of ….the flow of the flow of streams of consciousness ….it is because I am guarded; it is to go into stealth all my truths because I find that where I am now I cannot be myself. So it is not possible to toggle between the artist me and this other me, who isn’t me at all, but has to be this me now because —it is a role ….in order to survive. No I cannot speak my political leanings, I cannot defend even my views….whether it be for humanity or not

but I don’t know how to be fake. how to exist. that way. day to day. 

but it happens another way too—the gray seeps in ….and creates a plastic; empty; fake feeling ….in the end 

 and it is like being the sock instead of the foot; stretched out, empty and misshapen 

I start to suspect that this might be the storm blowing itself out and that I am about to be —I believe—recalled back to the Celf again 

but only if I get all the pieces right