Around september/oct, more recent, an unbiased glance. my writing style in its purest so far.
on clarity:
the sword is lifted, i want to test its edge....wether we are tightrope walkers over abysses without safety nets or we delicately tiptoe on the edge of that sharp blade willfully knowing that one false slip will surely cut us in two (this time literally)...
we no longer have the fear.
but are we really sure either?
its been long forgotten in favor of mindstrike lightning vision, where no thought is ever finished but merely a transition forging pathways into the next deprivation. clarity is usually the first to be let go, somehow the imposing crevices and widening rifts become a more comfortable place to reside. in the shadows of this veil its shockingly comforting (even though we may never admit to it).
so what if i've become ungrounded, lost in a chorus that no longer sings my tunes, a vision that reflects nothing that i see. i'll still scream from the rooftops even if it benefits only the turquoise veins of my own throat chakra. seeing is no longer believing but constructing, with every sight we transmit a brand new world built on aural spectrums and tactile curses. ahoy mate, this manifestation thunders inside of me, churning waves of simultaneous future life crash one by one against the rocks of my sharpest fears....which should have been forced to walk the plank a lifetime ago at least.
we are lost at sea, circling in the whirlpools so similar to the ones inside our minds, where the end result is obviously so contrary to our natures but so recognizably familiar, so comforting in that strange diametrical sort of way. in this paradox we sink down to the deep sea, another far away land where the blackness settles in, we may as well as cut out our own eyes. underneath we've learnt to flash but have yet to understand how to perceive the flashes of others.
