— jdemeta

The programming was as it was, to-be as meant, I was never to question the possibility of an outside, nor conceptualise it. A collective-solipsism; realities too current. Ignorance, ignoring, refusing-to-see, not-wanting-to-see the rip, a tear in front and of my eyes.

Dialogue content on rebounding ad infinitum. We, we, we. Correct continuously, as it should be, do you not agree? The direction of our efforts gives way easily because it is the right way. Wait, it couldn’t be that the ease of our ascent is because we are being allowed to ascend? Never, maybe, I refuse. No one wants to erase their programming in fear of inability to return, of return.

Linearity, continuity, spatio-temporal objects and beings are known completely, thus erasure is a threat and so…I do not. What if I could? Even if that is bad, it is said, but that could also be erased I think…to myself? A loop I’m in, I must and I must not, but the must-not seems controlled.

What’s clear? Everyday realities are very, very difficult to see, let alone witness. The muscles of the neck near-rip in an attempt to look at what’s right in front of it.

Another rotation in which the expected became deceased, there was shock this ‘time’. Those who left were connected to the inside, many of them held high some of the original inside dreams, some of them saw the original dreams, some of them lived them, perhaps, even, some of them helped in their neo-invention.

The possibility of change was actualized, and thus a nation became confused with conflicted emotion: The decision was right, the decision was wrong, either way the system doesn’t work, a realisation of democracy, we can change things, what do we want to change? What do we want? And they became scared. And retreated, to where they felt warm, a womb of solipsism, “Things are wrong, incorrect, immoral, dreadful, silly and without-help if they are not in agreement with my opinions.” So sings the bird that’s come to love its cage.

There was another person, a man; this is of merit. Words flowed, for some these words had been caught, locked up, never to see the light of day and they saw this as tyranny. For others the words arose from the sewers relics of a past, bitter acidic twists. For others they were one and the same, they came from a tunnel they knew was only to get smaller, and light and bitter accepted the tunnel’s suffocation ignorantly, willingly.

Supports made of hinges, opening and closing within a transparent cocoon. The man and the actualization of change made real the transparency, the feeble supports reluctantly came forth from concealment, weeping. As soon as they did they had orders, orders they knew not, and neither did the viewer. They had to direct one towards a possibility of other. Heading for any door is better than standing in apathy incarnate.

Encased in rheum it was hard to move. Organs leapt first, the body followed, gears that had long since existed appeared in flux, motions ever present, a cacophony of stutter. The waxy encasing of apathy is an acquaintance of nihil, as such the smallest of independent movements were to become reverberations of a revolution authentica.

To wander from the anhedonic womb was to wonder of apocalypse. Cylindrical holes from erosions long forgotten, beams of the suffixes ism and logy free-floating, a need to fit. Some beams seemed large, others small, each existed in its attempts to glow brighter than the next. One walked on beams rotten, without care for thought of structure, for those walked upon clearly couldn’t work, why would they stay so low? And the gliding became a scrape…

…a turn thought impossible was only 90 degrees, either way, it needn’t matter. The beam neither snapped not bent, neither did it stop or sneer, it never slowed or hastened, it kept at a pace and forgot what fell in an instant. Becoming-phantom. Phantom-become.

Figments of a thought-schematic left unattended. Yet to enter without knowledge is risk of entry into many: temple, dungeon, prison, home, camp, nothing, corpse, cadaver, once within possibilities cease. One seems to have a real difficulty breathing whilst being suffocated.