And the Self becomes Infinitely More Online

 

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I’m faintly appalled at how humans just buzz around doing something regardless of whether it’s something or nothing and that I’m one of some percentage of each.

 

(Hullo WP, I’m back, and I’m going to start doing this thing where I express real things that have been scrawled in my diary at certain points. This one is from September 22nd, 2016)

 

Strings

I SEE IT AS BEING AT

THE BOTTOM OF A WELL

WITH MY HAND HOLDING

ONE STRING

TO PULL MY BODY,

WEIGHED DOWN BY POOLS

OF THOUGHT,

UP TO THE CLARITY

OF THE LOGICAL CONVERSATION

YOU MIGHT HAVE

OVER A PLEASANT COFFEE DATE

BOTH SECRETLY STRUGGLING

TO MAINTAIN

YOUR INVISIBLE COATS

OF ENGAGEMENT

OR MAYBE IT IS ME

MAYBE IT IS ONLY ME

FEELING THE BENCH

SLIPPING OVER BENEATH ME

AND THE WALLS

CAVING IN

BEHIND ME

SO I SLOWLY TURN THE VOLUME DOWN

AND DOWN AND DOWN AND DOWN

UNTIL

ALL I CAN HEAR

ARE THE CLOUDS