April 1, 2022
As the windmill distracts itself from itself (each blade chasing its leader - ad infinitum), an elemental vibration reports data from extensive research (systemic investigation) behind the child left behind’s closed door. With each (seemingly infinite) passing moment, the fear of not feeling heard gets devoured by the motivational fear of a traumatized individual’s compulsion to over-explain. The Sun takes no favorites, and the moon is a dead-eye doll’s dead eye: most other stars are too far to hoist their intrusive “relevance,” and those bound by time are destined to bind - forever - to its inexplicable tactility. Those who take offense indulge in self-importance and too much free time (they are bound - spend it more wisely!).
Tendrils of mycelium hyphae-ish veins meander through fascia, lymph, and other types of subcutaneous weird human body goo - lightening bolts of worry, regret, and shame shimmer throughout untouchable areas of your injurious body. One hopes to hope (to hope) one day; but as one knows, hope is a paper shield in the rain (and a dearth of drizzle will eventually accumulate a voluminous wake). Take heed, because someone should: is Earth Kitty Genovese incarnate - or at the very least an event singularized through a wormhole…or time warp…or fuckin’ whatever…)?
What can prevail in these trying times: I try sometimes, but the law of reversed effort piques my current interests to inertia (writing these words is breaking my pact - just one more proof of my commitment issues). If one chooses to accept their role as sane-setter of examples, how does one live in humble reclusivity? A proven panacea - wait five minutes: you may feel different.