Author Topic: Reinventing the world  (Read 871 times)

Offline Contrapasso

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Reinventing the world
« on: September 06, 2019, 06:58:10 PM »
     Beneath the castle under the moon, I awoke...

            hearing the foyer clock below strike eight; I sometimes feel I might blow out my eyes, or drum out my ears to experience the world anew.

       I see a bowl of half rotten bananas on the dresser opposite. Fruit flies dance upon the vanity mirror. Not one can escape the intoxicating effusion of rot.

      Like them, I too was ridiculous. Like them, I was living in a state of complete schizophrenia—my organs bound to the dance of value's blossoming lure. 

      Doctor Steiner says I have a conduct disorder. Yet, his organs are part of the fantastic super structural illusion.

     As I lay on my bed, I extend my stomach towards the canvas of oak beams above. I imagine the surrounding air perfumed by the sweet scent of assylum and honeysuckle from freshly cut fields nearby.
     I see the form of my hands—was I born, or eventuated? Who is this indwelling, that once coupled with the self-negating flow of machinery?
    A donkey jacket lies untouched by the bedside—I have no taste for it. It has been two months since I walked off the job at the station. Whilst surveying the expanse of tracks, I wondered that I could not see their end. When the overhead line suddenly screamed in a weird frenzy, a storm gathered apace overhead. Then, a silence descended; so still that I clamped my ears, dropping my tools; I looked about in amazement. It seemed there was no one else around.
    The workers later found me unconscious; my head down the restroom toilet. Blood seemed to pour from every hole in my head.

    That day, I lost my desires.

    Now I wonder what a strange creature, I truly was, when I needed only to relish the indolent life of the idiot. That I could simply close my eyes, surrender, and cease to believe had never occurred to me. The world as virgin. She needs only a lover to die with.

    I hear the woman downstairs, Dolores, singing so beautifully. She sings only for me—though, sometimes, she sings for the fruit flies, sometimes for the fruit; and sometimes, for the plight of the world.

   It would be a tragedy to tell Dolores, she doesn’t exist. It is more beautiful to dream. Most, dream they are robots, but Dolores dreams of singing. 

   They will come to evict me today. I plan to leave before they arrive. They will find an emptiness in the walls, where they expect to find the paint of a soul. How long they have declared themselves to be the world; when they had only reinvented the world upon human flesh. As I disrobed myself of codes, I discarded artifice; fear, and spectacle.

   It is possible the world will devour me. That I shall die, starved, blinded and shorn by her unforgiving inclements; her unfathomable nature. With one last gasp, I will clutch the bosom of her earth—and touch the sweetness of life.

   It is true, I too, had played the robot all these years. But it is from some deep calling of the soul, I hear the siren song of a forgotten lover; calling out beyond a delirium infused reality—to the emplacements of the real.
« Last Edit: September 07, 2019, 07:39:06 PM by Contrapasso »

Offline JTetstone

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Re: Reinventing the world
« Reply #1 on: September 08, 2019, 06:39:52 PM »
One of your best writings, in my opinion.  jt
I was born and raised wearing hand me down shoes and clothes-but I was richer by far than those who thought themselves 'my betters.'  I'd take love over riches and fame any day.