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Reduced to Zero.

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  • Reduced to Zero.

    Karma. It's got me rooted in these convinced thoughts. I bite my own head off. The blood digests darkly. And it's no wonder the thrum of the powerlines is only for a limited time, the telephone poles sticking up next to the standing trees, the sun above pouring freedom in sparks of itself, filled to the brim, and filling. Karma. I take a step into the mirror, to angle myself closer.
    It is clear to me that love deemed pertinent such a fall as to separate us all from itself: The plunder, O a daze of pain, the object alone. Paradise shunned, stay, because I can't. It's got me tied up in useless excuse. Paradise, your lover, insatiably insane for a piece of the only island. The waves stutter in the throng of bird calls, and my shadow is cold with the palm's.
    Up in Heaven they're sleeping dreaming high culture and Death and Golden Numbers. The thing eats its lowerself, and it is terrifying, horrifying, disgusting. From a nest of flames the broken spirit of the firebird flows out what couldn't live in light that dwarfed it!: And the sun wore a poet's mask, and drops of ink constellating, concatenating there. And I was eternally sunburned.
    Karma because you are pressing my buttons; karma because I'm done with favors. I see Andromeda floating around in the sky out there. And Christ on the Cross. I see Caesar in the mirror. It's the tenacity of a self which is strong in ways it barely knows -- and often uses that against itself.
    Eating, it learned to focus on a certain diet, until it learned about the dead bird which broke from its nest like an egg like a heart and pried midnight apart with its blazing?
    Sophia is much harder to see, but she's there, like pain, forbidding.
    And the whole entire caste and mould of people, almost like living statues: an atom bomb behind those eyes, a gun behind the curtain, witnesses that scatter, and too many stories to tell.
    That's what we feared, that fear gave us reason. It was interesting to think of a world with One-hundred percent connection. The light fades from the world and is curled up invisible, as the bird wings into the sun: But it is never One-hundred percent. There is the mitigated, the mutilated, the barbary and lechery. I become human again hearing your voice. I come back to you.
    Fading light, to me most beautiful.
    ... I choose to let you go now.
    I return to my real home.

    Karma. Reduced to Zero.
    Last edited by amenOra; 08-02-2018, 09:06 AM.