Changing Constants; The Liars!

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The constant flickering glow, she said. I didn't hear her, but she came to my window at midnight, whispering the same echoing words. They're still reverberating inside my head. A constant flickering echo.

Why?
Because it fits in times of absolute nothingness.

Absolute is an extreme term.
So is life.

Stories can only have happy endings if you know when to stop telling them. I hate second chances. Too many expectations.
And we live to disappoint.

I want you to know, but only after there's nothing you can do about it. Information is power and I would never let anyone have that kind of control over me.
Unless I was promised certain destruction?
(I still won't believe you)

Electric chair, two years. Rings a bell.
Bad joke or good joke in bad taste?

It's hard to tell sometimes...
especially if it's your own darkness you're humoring.
That's dark, but self-demeaning isn't defaming. You need a third party. Outside your head.
Tsk.
Retarded clauses.

Things and reasons and seasons change.
Why can't I?
There's no point in knocking on locked doors.
Especially when you're the one who lost the keys.

I don't know which way to pick
and the sun will always be in my eyes
I want to fly.
But I don't want you to wait to catch me, because I think I may remember how to.
And then what would you do?

Echoes fade and memories die
Autumn frosts have slain July...

Are you afraid?
No.
You should be...

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Aeternum vale

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I don't understand why I feel like I'm going far away. Every day, so many things disappear into too-soon approaching horizons, and it feels like it's me who is receding into the icy waters. Except the colder it gets, the hotter I feel. There must be some way back. But which way is back?

If everything disappears, will I disappear too? If everything that makes up my very existence burns to smoldering ashes, will I burn too? If all that means anything comes to mean nothing, would anything mean anything ever again ?

Rule one: Stay in the abstract. Rule 2: Always remember. Rule 2, proviso: Remembering includes remembering to forget.

Why must everything always contradict everything else? Why is the "odd one out" the odd one out, when one is always odd anyway? Why does it all come down to numbers? Why must everything mean everything else? Why must everything mean nothing?

Why can't I find any answers? I don't know where to look. And everywhere is a very large place. I think I'm running out of time. I wish I knew where it all went. It's been twenty years, and every day, all I know is a little more of nothing.

I've stopped thinking. These are thoughts that keep escaping because I don't want to keep them in my head anymore. I can't, because I have no room for them.

They keep telling me to think back. But back to what? And with everyday, there's so much more to choose from. And I wasn't always me. I am not always me. But we get by with a little help from our friends. And a friend of the devil is a friend of mine.

I scare myself.

Reasons

How can I feel if I can't breathe?

It's dark. And I know it's all inside my own head, but how does that make it any better? Questions, questions, questions. So many questions.

Once upon a time, curiosity killed the gray clay cat. Satisfaction brought her back. But she was never the same...

I don't like making little sense you know. But I'm not wasting words. They bleed. And I am left holding up all our shattered glass.
It's only a problem because it leaves me with no free hands with which I could try to stop all these words. And I can only watch as they escape my mind.
I would tie it all up with ribbons, but I lost them.
All of them.
Maybe it's better this way.
I don't think they were ever mine in the first place.

Why?
(Why not?)
Because I choose to.

Why?

Why do this?

Honestly, I don't know.
Too many answers
to questions now far below
I do not remember a time
when they must have mattered
But I know there was an old world
Before it completely shattered


((c) November/December 2007)