[excerpt from 2012]
this is how they got me. Trapped within without even knowing I was caught. the system setup to produce me, yet my production is desire to not be produced when already am.
alone actions and characters melt into mind and life and the events become charades of who I am and was and will be intertwine with theirs and mine. The visual elements, the letters, the patterns falling into place, lock-step. Perfectly synchronized in the grand timepiece of the universe.
no universe i know. only reality i know. reality is real. the thing that we are and perceive and do, our thoughts flying slow sometimes fast sometimes caught, sometimes swept over. even as the voice recites words in your mind it is not it who is you nor I that drove you to act independently of the system.
Their names and associated tones, intents, and constructs gilded upon you as current version's Santa Claus valentine newspaper texture quilt.
Could you have known we would find the way to catch you it would all have been a dream, could you have imagined the methods used to pinpoint the exactness of each moment in time you would have been a character in a game under the control of another version of yourself from a timeless realm where the smallest details of your perceptions are worked out through eons of practice shedding away the many hours of rehearsal for the crossing point that lasts no more longer than time is deep as thought is boundless where space is destined to reveal yourself to you.
condensed
20100905this is how they got me. Trapped within without even knowing I was caught. the system setup to produce me, yet my production is desire to not be produced when already am.
alone actions and characters melt into mind and life and the events become charades of who I am and was and will be intertwine with theirs and mine. The visual elements, the letters, the patterns falling into place, lock-step. Perfectly synchronized in the grand timepiece of the universe.
no universe i know. only reality i know. reality is real. the thing that we are and perceive and do, our thoughts flying slow sometimes fast sometimes caught, sometimes swept over. even as the voice recites words in your mind it is not it who is you nor I that drove you to act independently of the system.
Their names and associated tones, intents, and constructs gilded upon you as current version's Santa Claus valentine newspaper texture quilt.
Could you have known we would find the way to catch you it would all have been a dream, could you have imagined the methods used to pinpoint the exactness of each moment in time you would have been a character in a game under the control of another version of yourself from a timeless realm where the smallest details of your perceptions are worked out through eons of practice shedding away the many hours of rehearsal for the crossing point that lasts no more longer than time is deep as thought is boundless where space is destined to reveal yourself to you.