...I cannot sleep.
What'll we do, when all the pages run out? What'll we write when all the ink runs dry? Who will listen when we cannot speak. Who will agree when we cannot explain. Who will know when we cannot tell.
(my god) I'm afraid. Afraid of the silence - indescribeable, thick, black silence like the night. I'm terrified of tongues torn out, leaving that bloody, swollen lack in a space in our mouth. I fear hands numb and immoble; a mind hapless, naked, cold.
So we can no longer express. So we can no longer know.
Without expression, we are dead. Without exchange - useless, fragmented. Without communication - nothing.
No life exists in a vacuum.
In synapses between you and I, yes - once. But out in space; in the cold, dead nothingness - there is only the empty, only the void. Only the silence.
Being stilled is death itself.
Being broken so we can no longer emit: this is the only hell, becoming hollow shells or formless replicas of minds that make up "tradition": this is the only dread. Being one of the infinite particles in the eternal foreverness - on and on and on forever - this is the only darkness, only night we cannot comprehend.
Warms reminds me, must remind me; I am breathing. But no. only the rhythms - frantic, constant, violent rhythms - remind me we are alive. Sweat from cool skin, the smell of heavy breath, fast and deep over me, warns me I am not dead.
When I awake tomorrow - next week, next month, next year - I fear the absence we will feel.
The illusion. Warmth, life. It is not there, not in my memory.
I must be quiet, must stop breathing, must be--
...silenced.
No but then.
I hate and hate and hate and hate trust what is love can't hold nowhere to go from nothing to say how will we know who is this god that is love life is useless we have somebody to die for you don't understand how can we make it love your neighbor as yourself isn't that definable
Questions, they remind me. Tell me lies, all the lies; constant.
and they are the devil and they are my angel and they are my whore and they are my lover and they are creating me and they are destroying me and and and and and
They only remind me--
(my god) I'm afraid. Afraid of the silence - indescribeable, thick, black silence like the night. I'm terrified of tongues torn out, leaving that bloody, swollen lack in a space in our mouth. I fear hands numb and immoble; a mind hapless, naked, cold.
So we can no longer express. So we can no longer know.
Without expression, we are dead. Without exchange - useless, fragmented. Without communication - nothing.
No life exists in a vacuum.
In synapses between you and I, yes - once. But out in space; in the cold, dead nothingness - there is only the empty, only the void. Only the silence.
Being stilled is death itself.
Being broken so we can no longer emit: this is the only hell, becoming hollow shells or formless replicas of minds that make up "tradition": this is the only dread. Being one of the infinite particles in the eternal foreverness - on and on and on forever - this is the only darkness, only night we cannot comprehend.
Warms reminds me, must remind me; I am breathing. But no. only the rhythms - frantic, constant, violent rhythms - remind me we are alive. Sweat from cool skin, the smell of heavy breath, fast and deep over me, warns me I am not dead.
When I awake tomorrow - next week, next month, next year - I fear the absence we will feel.
The illusion. Warmth, life. It is not there, not in my memory.
I must be quiet, must stop breathing, must be--
...silenced.
No but then.
I hate and hate and hate and hate trust what is love can't hold nowhere to go from nothing to say how will we know who is this god that is love life is useless we have somebody to die for you don't understand how can we make it love your neighbor as yourself isn't that definable
Questions, they remind me. Tell me lies, all the lies; constant.
and they are the devil and they are my angel and they are my whore and they are my lover and they are creating me and they are destroying me and and and and and
They only remind me--
1 Thought(s):
Did you know that in the "empty" vaccuum of space, little particles wink in and out of existance all the time?
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