and for a moment there I completely forgot where I was. When i came to I recognised I was hanging upside down, no doubt about it. the brightness made it harder to understand the mirrored surrounding. slowly, I accept and confirm this is familiar enough not to warrant upset. I recognise the state I'm in. proprioception kicks in. my legs have earned back some control and are beginning to complain of their numb state. I can clearly define my outline and my aim.
well-outlined case for the reality being a projection of my perception of what's objective. it is too obvious, bullet-pointed and pointed at by all fingers. so what's the dispute? i guess it's a closed case of the fact that i cannot touch the ground with my arms, no matter how much i would like to stretch out.
you. you are standing there laughing. you are sitting down on a chair, rolling a cigarette so slowly it hurts the particles of dust floating around you with impatience. eventually they are burnt by your mechanical lighter which needs three-four takes to work. clip clip. you are running around in a circle, tidying up the objects out of place and stopping to check the plugs are switched off at the mains. you rehearse your speeches silently. mouthing the consonants and breathing out the vowels with your smoke. you stomp your feet with stubbornness and indecision. plagued by your virtues, you stop at the mirror. you stare at it, but have forgotten how to look into it. you hear me and seem startled for a second. you get more active and start rummaging around for the keys. and the receipts. and the shopping. and the other things you need. you pick up your stuff from the floor and you drop it back down with disappointment.
optimised connection between everything and the flow is particularly comforting. the case is the case and this knowledge is not gold or anything at all. what's tangible is infallible but what you're made of and what you touch is only in the matrix.
we live in the matrix. from the film. a fucking computer machine of prophecy and stamina and algorithmic calculations of predictability. and all emotions and feelings and words are only valuable when looked at retrospectively.
I fall or fail.
well-outlined case for the reality being a projection of my perception of what's objective. it is too obvious, bullet-pointed and pointed at by all fingers. so what's the dispute? i guess it's a closed case of the fact that i cannot touch the ground with my arms, no matter how much i would like to stretch out.
you. you are standing there laughing. you are sitting down on a chair, rolling a cigarette so slowly it hurts the particles of dust floating around you with impatience. eventually they are burnt by your mechanical lighter which needs three-four takes to work. clip clip. you are running around in a circle, tidying up the objects out of place and stopping to check the plugs are switched off at the mains. you rehearse your speeches silently. mouthing the consonants and breathing out the vowels with your smoke. you stomp your feet with stubbornness and indecision. plagued by your virtues, you stop at the mirror. you stare at it, but have forgotten how to look into it. you hear me and seem startled for a second. you get more active and start rummaging around for the keys. and the receipts. and the shopping. and the other things you need. you pick up your stuff from the floor and you drop it back down with disappointment.
optimised connection between everything and the flow is particularly comforting. the case is the case and this knowledge is not gold or anything at all. what's tangible is infallible but what you're made of and what you touch is only in the matrix.
we live in the matrix. from the film. a fucking computer machine of prophecy and stamina and algorithmic calculations of predictability. and all emotions and feelings and words are only valuable when looked at retrospectively.
I fall or fail.
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