/lit/ - Literature

It is as if the words came to you phonetically. There is a self-annexation at issue here. Things find expression in words without first asking permission. This attains to very high spheres. There is a mute password with which certain things now pass through the gates.
But the mood of depression is deepened also. Fear of losing it is simultaneous with its deepening. I am capable of retaining only the emotional atmosphere of the depression, not its contents.
Strong feeling, once again, of being on the sea. The sequence of phases = ocean voyage, life in the cabin. It's quite clear, after all - it is the world seen through glass. A web is being spun now; everything joins together with the black background, as in bad engravings. The whole room is woven in hashish.
[...] Objects thus participate in my depression = annulment of their matter. They become mannequins. Unclothed dress-up dolls, waiting to do my bidding, they stand around in their nakedness, and everything about them teaches a lesson, as with an anatomical model. No, it's like this: they stand there without aura. By virtue of my smile. By virtue of my smile, all things are under glass.