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I Happen To Like My Inner Voice before/after I tilt windmills with ease. Charity nods at Self-Respect, gets a cold shoulder of indifference, and leaves the room. There is nothing so liberating, as having nothing. Much like being on drugs in Italy, wandering the streets, the bent faces, the strange language on the tip of my tongue, the only thing tying the whole affair together is the internal monologue, that voice of mine that I am sure is me. There was no interference. No point of reference. No baggage or name tags to identify who I am. Its why I did acid so much, sadly in the past. When nothing around you is as it seems, nothing you feel, hear, taste or see is as it seems, you begin to trust yourself, and get to know your inner voice. Its not elegaic. One may find his or hers inner voice and despise it. It may complain too much. Or run them down. I happen to like my inner voice.
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