Everyone understands the whole thing
Much is soundlessly shattered in the vacuumed spaces of my consciousness, which in itself survives in fragments. I stare at this sentence. It came right through me which is to say I wrote it before I thought about it. And now I'm thinking about why I would say that. I survive in pieces. I don't mean badly by it. I think i mean, replacing a single identifiable emotion is a fragmented microcosm of sorts. Between those pieces, there exists a vacuum, and in it, there's something undefined clawing into me. The basin inside the Inferi-infested cave in Harry Potter that did not empty unless it was drunk from? Like that malicious basin, the vacuum latches on inside me filling me with hate that never empties. And, as I live on, as I give off pieces of me to the places I see, to the words I read or write, to you, to others, to the strangers I make meaningful eye contact with, and to the world I strive to reject - there is less of me and more of the vacuum. The pieces I take back with me don't seem to replace those that were taken from me. So, there is a terrible incongruity inside, where nothing fits; and the more I see, the more I read, touch, feel, understand, breathe, move - the less I know. Like an infernal cycle, diabolically enough, what helps me sleep seems to make life worse as well as better - all at the same time. So I constantly build a fire, burn in it and rise from it, only to build, burn, rise on and on. Like a paradox. A paradox in limbo? Sometimes the scales tip in favour of one and i burn a little more or rise a little more. Or build a little more. And the face in the reflection is alien. The flesh and bones feel alien. Even the air i exhale feels alien. I've listened to music in the last month more often than i have in my life prior to it. I've logged more hours at airport queues in the last month than i have in my life prior to it. And it should feel like i've won more civil wars than i've lost, yet it only feels like i'm losing. The 'win' feeling, that adrenaline rush, doesn't last very long. A slightly more lasting moment of peace is when i'm looking at the sky. And i'm almost sure that it's where i want to be. Elsewhere - Skyward, perhaps. Sometimes i want to toss every relationship, all kinds, i have to a trash pile and never look at any of them ever again - assert free will by a cold detachment. But i also know that it would only make me a sum of my experiences. Sigh. I can go from 0 to 100 and back so fast without control, my mind starts to spin. I'm tired. I feel mad. Nothing fits.
The thing and the anti thing takes our lives away.Only to reinstate the belief. Big Bang and Big Burst every instant.
Nothing + nothing + nothing + nothing +..................................=Something finite. I think that's what you would call a sum. It made me mad. It makes you mad. It will make us all mad. Mad is a pretty word or a dangerous word?
The door knocks or the reverse
Infinite laziness
Mysterious laziness
Fucking laziness
like I will vomit
the mountain will crash
The plane would land
Ice will melt
Fire will burn
The cloud will form
The hiss of the snake
Difficulties in the geometry
Sweat
It will make all of us survive throughout. That's all we want. Right?
Much is soundlessly shattered in the vacuumed spaces of my consciousness, which in itself survives in fragments. I stare at this sentence. It came right through me which is to say I wrote it before I thought about it. And now I'm thinking about why I would say that. I survive in pieces. I don't mean badly by it. I think i mean, replacing a single identifiable emotion is a fragmented microcosm of sorts. Between those pieces, there exists a vacuum, and in it, there's something undefined clawing into me. The basin inside the Inferi-infested cave in Harry Potter that did not empty unless it was drunk from? Like that malicious basin, the vacuum latches on inside me filling me with hate that never empties. And, as I live on, as I give off pieces of me to the places I see, to the words I read or write, to you, to others, to the strangers I make meaningful eye contact with, and to the world I strive to reject - there is less of me and more of the vacuum. The pieces I take back with me don't seem to replace those that were taken from me. So, there is a terrible incongruity inside, where nothing fits; and the more I see, the more I read, touch, feel, understand, breathe, move - the less I know. Like an infernal cycle, diabolically enough, what helps me sleep seems to make life worse as well as better - all at the same time. So I constantly build a fire, burn in it and rise from it, only to build, burn, rise on and on. Like a paradox. A paradox in limbo? Sometimes the scales tip in favour of one and i burn a little more or rise a little more. Or build a little more. And the face in the reflection is alien. The flesh and bones feel alien. Even the air i exhale feels alien. I've listened to music in the last month more often than i have in my life prior to it. I've logged more hours at airport queues in the last month than i have in my life prior to it. And it should feel like i've won more civil wars than i've lost, yet it only feels like i'm losing. The 'win' feeling, that adrenaline rush, doesn't last very long. A slightly more lasting moment of peace is when i'm looking at the sky. And i'm almost sure that it's where i want to be. Elsewhere - Skyward, perhaps. Sometimes i want to toss every relationship, all kinds, i have to a trash pile and never look at any of them ever again - assert free will by a cold detachment. But i also know that it would only make me a sum of my experiences. Sigh. I can go from 0 to 100 and back so fast without control, my mind starts to spin. I'm tired. I feel mad. Nothing fits.
The thing and the anti thing takes our lives away.Only to reinstate the belief. Big Bang and Big Burst every instant.
Nothing + nothing + nothing + nothing +..................................=Something finite. I think that's what you would call a sum. It made me mad. It makes you mad. It will make us all mad. Mad is a pretty word or a dangerous word?
The door knocks or the reverse
Infinite laziness
Mysterious laziness
Fucking laziness
like I will vomit
the mountain will crash
The plane would land
Ice will melt
Fire will burn
The cloud will form
The hiss of the snake
Difficulties in the geometry
Sweat
It will make all of us survive throughout. That's all we want. Right?
'Mad is a pretty word or a dangerous word' is one of my favourite parts
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