|
Who are you? The question leapt out at him, into him. The sensation was one of vertigo, a stunning dizziness, a vastly magnified equivalent of the disorientation which sometimes affects the eyes when they fasten on a simple and regular pattern, and the brain mistakes its distance from that pattern, the false focus seeming to pull at the eyes, muscles against nerves, reality against assumptions. His head did not swim; it seemed to sink, foundering, struggling. |
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 15:52
|
|
|
|
| # ? May 18, 2024 00:30 |
|
|
Who are you? (Who am I?) Who are you? Slam, slam, slam: the sound of the barrage falling, the sound of doors closing; attack and incarceration, explosion and collapse together. |
|
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 15:52
|
|
|
Just a little accident. A slight mistake. One of those things. A game of Damage, and a high-tech impressionist . . . unfortunate combination. Two harmless chemicals which, when mixed—. . . Feedback, a howl like pain, and something breaking . . . A mind between mirrors. He was drowning in his own reflection (something breaking), falling through. One fading part of him—the part which didn’t sleep? Yes? No?—screamed from down the deep, dark pit, as it fell: Changer . . . Changer . . . Change—. . . (eee) . . . |
|
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 15:53
|
|
|
  You are the one playing the game (as are we all) . . . Still something wrong, though, something both missing and added. Think of those vital errors; think of that dividing cell, same and not-same, the place that’s turned inside out, the cell cluster turning itself inside out, looking like a split brain (unsleeping, moving). Listen for somebody trying to talk to you. . . . |
|
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 15:54
|
|
|
|
same, op |
|
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 15:54
|
|
|
Be born then, gasp wind, screech at the surgeon’s slap, seek manhood, taste a little of godhood, feel pain, give birth, struggle a little while, succumb: (Dying, leave quietly by the rear exit, please.) Generation, regeneration, again, again, as in a ritual, with blood-stained vestments and nail-torn hands, children of Merlin, chasing a gleam. Children, too, of Eve, forever building Edens-and kicking them apart in berserk fury because somehow it isn’t the same. (AGH! AGH! AGH!-an idiot screams his mindless anguish amid the rubble. But quickly! let it be inundated by the choir, chanting Alleluias at ninety decibels.) Hear then, the last Canticle of the Brethren of the Order of BYOB, as sung by the century that swallowed its name |
|
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 15:59
|
|
|
you don't need to reply to this thread, just to think about it. then i've won |
|
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 16:08
|
|
|
|
i feel uncomfortable this thread was highly triggering |
|
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 16:24
|
|
|
(This from that very pit of night, naked in the wasteland, the ice-wind moaning his only covering, alone in the freezing darkness under a sky of chill obsidian:) Whoever tried to talk to me? When did I ever listen? When was I ever other than just myself, caring only for myself ? The individual is the fruit of mistake; therefore only the process has validity. . . . So who’s to speak for him? |
|
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 16:26
|
|
|
The wind howls, empty of meaning, a soak for warmth, a cess for hope, distributing his body’s exhausted heat to the black skies, dissolving the salty flame of his life, chilling to the core, sapping and slowing. He feels himself falling again, and knows that this time it is a deeper plunge, to where the silence and the cold are absolute, and no voice cries out, not even this one. (Howled like the wind:) Whoever cared enough to talk to me? (Silence) Whoever ever cared— (Silence) |
|
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 16:27
|
|
|
|
Who am I, you ask? Well ... I am the one hiding under your bed Teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red I am the one hiding under yours stairs Fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair I am the clown with the tear-away face Here in a flash and gone without a trace I am the "who" when you call, "Who's there?" I am the wind blowing through your hair I am the shadow on the moon at night Filling your dreams to the brim with fright |
|
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 16:45
|
|
|
|
| # ? May 18, 2024 00:30 |
|
| We're all just players in the game of life. | |
|
#
?
Sep 19, 2014 16:48
|
|
