; lyht leaves the eyes—expelled by a relentless laesr of poignant realisation that reality is but absurdism x impossibility.

Sunday, 31 July 2011

nonexistence on the 3rd dimension; the split second feeling

my mother calls me a wanderer. an ethereal creature forced into the body of the third dimension person. these kind, evil, amazing people. unfortunately, i am unable to relate.

looking at reflections, please pardon my inner geek, gives rise to the idea of the reverse effects of erised. what i see is a monster. i don't belong here. this is not my body. it cannot be. were the body mine, i would not walk around with such intrinsic, powerful discomfort and anger. sometimes i think i want to be a boy. sometimes i think i want to be a cat. sometimes i want to be—just without the body.

myself and my body. two separate things forced together in an arranged marriage. i don't want this; i don't understand how anybody could ever want this.

toothbrush. toilet paper.

there is a split second feeling
i am severely addicted
i wait to hear the thunder
the split second feeling comes as a pristine, unbroken bubble
in vigorous absolutism

and everything
my guts, my heart, my mind
every emotion i've ever allowed this heart to feel
the conglomerate of my being in the tangible and intangible
it all goes away in the split second feeling
where i simply am
just. without a body

it is perfect.

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