not one thing

Diary entry

I accept again that i'm not gonna take one form, be one thing. When i die i want to have taken so many forms my body would have had to sprout new limbs and heads and facets (like a Picasso painting) to keep up with it. I am not broken, I am reconstructing. Re-defining myself, but by using the material of my life so far. Of everything. Maybe there are no clear defining lines, or even shapes, in the wild. And it's the wild I need to head out into. Away from materialism in all forms. Material, tangible, definable. Those words are like small deaths.