do you see what makes itself all too known?
of course, but does it break you?

or are you something more fortunate, something intact?
something which musters the ability to act, even
if only so that you disappear knowing you had.

you will know. you will see IT. and maybe, just maybe,
seizing that opportunity, you will scream. so loudly
and so clearly that those out there can hear you.
so that they can hear this fleeting daydream's
cries, while it remains.

this makes you different from many of us.

many of us, who felt an ashen cool overtake our forms
when we came to fully understand where we stand.
time felt as though it slowed and bent inward
into knots. to be consumed by a so-very-twisted
reflection of our lunatic god's dream - nay, nightmare...
truly, the very nature by which we bear witness to
this second demise almost seems to have been
contorted to feel as long and helpless as
possible. oh, this barrier...

but these shattered minds, the madness they begot wasn't
as you may imagine. i ask, do you know of "humans?"
do you, perhaps, as an external observer, exist as
and from one yourself in another time and space?

hmm, and so it must be asked, have you ever looked at
an "insect" and spoken to it, as though it could
understand you? you'll notice... well, that's the thing,
isn't it? you won't notice much. it knows "you" speak,
but not how, to what purpose, or even what speaking
truly is beyond the making of a sound. it was,
in fact, quite lost, even if it'd not occur
to you to ponder such a thing.

this is to be contrasted with what you may expect
of much of our insanity. you may read of grandiose
tales, where a curious man is reduced to a chattering
shell of his former self. where every word is a shriek,
and he walks as a shivering corpse, lived
through vicariously by what he saw.

however, many of us instead come to find ourselves more
in the position of this insect. lost. confused. helpless.
surrounded, yet so unbelievably alone. but of course,
what makes the insect fortunate is its inability to
care about this. it knows only enough to do what it
must to fulfill its purpose. it may be disturbed
by your voice, but it won't remember that, or think
anything of it beyond just another odd
sound of many. we are different.

we are aware. we are aware enough to understand the
unfairness of it all. the cruelty, and just how
little we can do about it. and from this, our madness -
our reflected lunacy - is born. it manifests in this rot,
this decay. a stasis of dread, and with it, a long last dance.

let this awaken deep thought within you,
and continue your pursuit of this understanding.

return