things are coming at me and going before i even notice.
can we get retrograde.
finish one thing before the next freaking freak comes to town.
hang around. hang out. there is an art to these things, and I am ultimately distracted. I don't consider my position unique. I don't consider where I have been when I go to a new place. I only want attention. The details are just another distraction. When do I get the pay off. When do I stop borrowing from an unknowable and untangible future? Is this my culture, or is it me?
If the outcome of certain things are measurable does that have any relavance to my ability to show you the way to change?
What I do know is that the layers of my being are reduced and built at a rate unknowable.
Chemistry is magic and vice and versa.
the conspiracy against me and you is self contained and international.
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lemme tell you about conspiracies:
please convince me, in a convincing manner, that there is no subtext to this last bit.. that there is no conspiracy, that i have not been set out as an example for trial by those in which i trusted the most, and trusted me to not fail only to have those self-same tables turned upside down. please tell me in a thousand words, or at least one good photograph, that all this gnashing of teeth was not prepared and submitted to some council of who-whatever because somewhere, sometime, my praises were sang too loud and too proud neglecting that i too was merely flesh and full of want and desire as much as any other living thing. please tell me that when the bets were placed, i was at least given the long odds to do the wrong thing and whoever took that bet is now very wealthy indeed. please tell me with every fiber of being and community and familial woowoo that my path was not opened to me only just to see what i would do because i was offered up to be a good man with integrity and the interest of the subversive is only to see how far i could fall. an experiment in human failings set out to show the hypocracies of everyman. a point made by the believers of failures given to the unbelievers in fragility. another proof set for the gallery to witness.
...because i always knew i could fall.
this was never a question in my mind.
i could have simply been asked.
a gallery of failures behind door number one.
behind door number two an empty room.
at least your integrity is there to sing you a lullaby when you get tired of contemplating which one to enter.
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