(no subject)
Baby steps - refill me. Usher yourself in. I can see clearer and clearer by the day. Hold on, it says to me, the journey will bleed exhaustion from your tear ducts, it will be: ease subtracted from hardship, a new refinement in human conscousness.It is all enveloping.It whispers,
smile, your third eye can see the hollow reflection you cast upon these walls. At least look presentable. It shouldn't see you in disarray. Project yourself.It is by definition...It whispers,
but I can no longer hear it. Even I can feel the oncoming storm, look by look, as the audience passes by, judging me. Once I see it happen, I am at my most cautious. I mean -- paranoid. At these points it is louder, an indistinct mumbling bass line to the previously undefined equation of life.
Hold on, it says to me, just spill. I do:
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The glass was faux, it resonated with the sounds of the failed and their failures. It was the only escape of the fixed, the outward thinkers of a square function overwhelming in its spoiled rotational volume. The prison itself was sweating from its fading pride: its fixation: finally finding fluttering ferrets.
The plastic glass was running from its truth. Unlike prison, its only dripped itself, cajoling other immediates into what it could only vibrate back with a vehement emphasis. -- it was vehemently emphatic --
How capable can you be in your backward face fronting fluttering ferrets? And you ask yourself this, tracing the voluptuous curve of the question mark over again, and over. You strike clear the wrong answers, not by backtracking, but in a horrid stab of consciousness, sprawling them out for all to see, and only for yourself to judge.
And while everyone ogles, you say,I just started,and,I really need more time.but the day is just w i t h e r i n g a w a y.