Flip flop falling friction fueling twists contorting all we say. Enjoy your endless dead-ended gameplay we’re already so abhorred. Think of a phrase and all it doesn’t mean and the many things it does. Think of everyone wrapped up in terror and laughing it off with a reflexive shrug. Everyone is terrified of what isn’t to come. Everyone like little chickens drowning in streams of unconscious monologue misconstructing sums from the nothing – always nothing – constantly falling from above.
Everyone is terrified, why else would they succeed in chatter? And all the while also succeed in not doing what they will never do. There are lines that have been drawn, I think, I wonder, is progress an eraser or an attempted fix? Or something more akin to learning how to counteract and right newly discovered wrongs. What new atrocities are contained in our flimsy modern constructions? What new atrocities will we lazily will to be willed away? The counterintuitive counterinactions of having an opinion from the safety of free speech within a culture cultivating no more than the glorification of disinterest.
But it’s not so bad: this lukewarm terror. It could be much worse than all of this. It could be fanatic exercises like non-figurative burnings at the stake and mass-scale executions. It’s not so bad, this dimming dying, so securely snuggled in my safety vest, as the city’s pulse is weakening as an perfect example of it’s inhabitants desire to antithrive. Better to be narcotized and peacefully slowly fading away. Better to be anesthetized and wake up (or not) post reconstructive butchering and cataclysmic decay.
It can’t be like this everywhere: sunlit cloud cover to the point of blinding. It can’t be like this everywhere. I wonder if it is.