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

Tuesday, 30 August 2011

what is the name of the man who invented colour television

for the first time, my world is made of bright moving images to replace the whooshing sounds that usually engulf me; the sounds of a tornado of target-locked missiles all aimed right between my eyes.

i am selectively afraid of commitment to things that feel out of my grasp. Deathly afraid of feeling comfortable and latching myself onto things that have nothing to do with me. Things controlled by the hands of all these other mini-gods.

why have i forsaken myself? when and where did all this start? how much more destruction will i have to partake in before my vision finally blurs? it has been just an hour of me sitting in a crowd by myself, watching empty channels with the volume inaudibly low, but i am tired already. i half wait for people to wake up and notice, but by the time morning is here i am glad they have not seen they kind of pathetic, lonely penance i pay for crimes no one can hope to understand.

Before this i was a fish living in a dark cave at the bottom of the ocean. now i am in a rectangular tank with multicoloured rocks and filtered water and the only way out is to jump.

i run cold water in the shower while i take refuge in letting go.

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