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Journal mercedo's Journal: The Eve -Comprehensive Version

For what to be is, not to be is, soul, God....for what greens, flowers, rivers, forests are...... No water, my head is dried up. And again, not to be. Music, subsequently again, a woman. .........Sense! Thus my head thinks. And again I am. And again it's music. Subsequently again......One woman. And again I,
Never am dubious I am. I am never dubious I am. And again flowers. Once flowers are my's too small. And again my's too big. And again it's not to be, that's it. From next to not to be.
My mind is too big, because my capacity is too small. My mind is just a being. I respect to be existing. A woman is a child. Because a man is a dog. And again, my head thinks. I think senses. Nobody can write. Therefore I can't write.

Marriage in natural consequences. Meaningless discharge. Excess. Eyes listen to all the voices, a mouth sees some voices, and my head to eat. Because as if a horse sees fire, mist implies an atomosphere, there's no word. Substance that just exists, life derived from inconsistency, Sycamoreleaf tree born from the soul, then again a rotten head. A big pot, this dried up hair that brought me former victory. The acts of butchery is so sore in my eyes, once I loved the perfect darkness, and there's something, the epitaph on the grave that relish having them freezed the hands that's unable to grasp anything.

I had seen in sequence. I thought the fear and remained it in the brain. And again the thought of genius injured my brain, and had me drink fresh tomato juice. I had seen in sequence freely. My world has two, and was completely different. One is I had seen the fate in sequence, and the other is I had seen...... what I understand. Those are a man and God, a sphynx and a lion. Delirium is order, because I had seen it.

What I saw the next was just a vacant hole, glass and lenses, a carriage and light, a brain that thinks nothing, something without eyes, a woman who has got a clot blood from a nose to a head, it's the eve, everyday I stop thinking, everyday I am just the things, power and light, dream and substance, tepid crisis, and crisis, oh my head, I will follow my head!
Oh I see, and my head felt. My consciousness keeps on, a treason drowned, a freeman crossed the car, tomorrow night I will see a woman, talk to a guy who has got fish hands.
I am never aware of it. I came to be violent extremely.

It's night. A thought never exists. I am the only poet, and a bunch of flowers.
A man wearing suits stepped downstairs, heading for the car, as if a bull were slipping away from cliff.

What did I see? I saw everything, the whole things that exist now. Arthur Rimbaud signified me extremely. He is a big being, a human, a bull. That's not connected to Satan. Light is aware of him and being made him mad goes ahead from the deep mountains now. The eve is long.

If everything exists, there's no my nose. Because into my nose I had given a mad screw, a ballpoint pen like a watch, little by little for a long time. If I've got a thought, it's a sound. No news. A primitive figure changes since long ago, a deep light my head is aware of, and it's also a cool drop as if it were pouring. One big needle in the air of wrath as if it were boiling. They've got no chances to get out of it, rule over me, annihilate me, annoy me, oppress the feeling whether summer is better than winter, smashed the wild pig and put them into my eyes, decrease my sense extremely, killed my reason which ordered that I should hate a guy, am I serious that order I should know God, am I me?

I am exhausted. If I had things to see to seek for a console land, an upper arms of a woman, I feel comfort, the bosoms that are her figure are as natural as possible. That's also a life, and an integration. Therefore I feel tired and went to a distant desert, found three stars, admire Magi as Angels, breathed a sacred breath to the Tristar, hate the ones who want to be the art themselves.

I deny. I'm exhausted, totally exhausted. I saw an upgoing shooting star far away.

As if God wants to be God, men want to be men, I am to be me, passing through night and day, hens provide fresh blood at dawn, I will face 33 men with the help of women. When I found them just a breath I hugged women, went to the town of St Lous in the north, gripped the powdered milk, cried as a mad man, she went up to the heaven there, when I saw it she was contained by an angelic light, when my mouth swallowed everything passing through day, night and morning, and again I myself fell into being, day by day saw men, towns, a cross and saw music and I found human culture stands on the roof and the extraterrestrial's real image that has been making a great effort to establish the human symbol in it, and submit to the day to come, is that OK? What I saw at the same time becomes past, present and future over time, over lands, over the sea, over the green eyes, sink into the bottom of the sea, melt with modern science, over men, over women's body, I would rather feel hot than I perspire seeing the dream, melt with humans who live in the vessel of the hands than being harmed by animals that direct the cruel tanks. ______

Someone let him know where I'm heading for. I saw what I saw. I am insisting I saw what we are unable to see. I'm saying I see tanks in the violet, a big face near rthe horizon.

Blood is a piece of button
When I look into it, that draws the arch
When I look down it, that is above the head

Mountains respect the valley
Because the high is blood
The low is button

As such I came mad
As if I were eating
As if it were a mad tail
It sprung it dispersed as if eyes were hurt by it

There's no guaranty for Self to be the same as the self being concious at present. As well, time comes over the description and men eat quicksilver in the thermometre. What they eat is as good as decay or my gray matter is, prosecute the fruition in perseverances, and why not prepare for the day to come

Yet, yet it's eve. Tomorrow I will find myself to be sober, oh, witches. ____

Stop. It is necessary for me to take a rest for the day to come. I perspired. I saw the moon. At dawn over the mountains, over the valley, over the dream, pick out a piece of stone, throw it to the tristar far away on the top of the mountain, stars include the night, praise the 'world' we live___in order for us to need a finger to point, direct the clock.

To the bottom of the muddy pond
Tremendously big stone was thrown
Dispersed black dyed the stars in the night

'Cat's Eyes'
Gave off the light suddenly from the utter black
Signified the universe all at once

After that
From the Alps Mountains
Tremendously small piano came out

Don't be afraid of
Now Mrs XX
Fell off and passed

-Jul/27, 1978

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The Eve -Comprehensive Version

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The moon may be smaller than Earth, but it's further away.