| En Affreux Demande Pour Verite (Un Infini Absurde Exploit) | for everyone |
On Dire Demand for Truth (An Infinite Incongruous Feat)
Time does not give me the answer, nor does it induce me with the least of comforts. Often times I am inebriated with lugubrious retrospection on the “what ifs” and “maybes”. During these periods of dejection, I feign ignorance on my state of dissolution. Cracks on my ceiling do not speak words of erudition; the night light does not register melodramatic resolutions to the illogical disputes in my head. The abrupt changes on the weather patterns of events lead me to conclude that the “id” is presently extinct. Gradual regression of desires and avidity prevail. In an attempt to decrypt the negative circumstances that had occurred, intensive scrutiny is applied to viewing the past few months of my existence—which I wish was in a fashionable “erase and rewind” condition.
| On Fear of Sleep and Qualms of Credence | for everyone |
I mistook my present condition with insomnia, defined by Mr. Webster as: "n. the chronic inability to sleep". Realizing that I am capable of feeling drowsiness, I dismissed this rather bovine notion and mused over other embryonic vindications. There are scarcely any other reasons for my lack of gusto to put my mind and body in a state of repose, only that feeling of uneasiness which causes my heart to dance to a faster beat, my pupils to dilate, or my skin to feel arctic-- this I recognize is FEAR.
Of what?
That circumstance when an individual is unaware and unable to manipulate his own mind, causing myriad concepts to manifest from the subconscious. Put simply--dreams. On rare occasions, majority of the human species experience kafkaesque delusions. In my case, it happens as often as the sun rises. And it is far from dreaming of monstrous entities or other creatures not of this world, but of people who torment me physically, mentally, and emotionally.
But my phobia of sleep escalates not during the act itself; but upon waking up, when it dawns on me-- I AM ALONE.
Then comes my qualms of credence. I question my faith over and over, like a broken record. yet, even if my doubts seem to dominate, there remains that small percentage of my faith holding on (picture a candle in the middle of a dark room).
| SOUND REDUCTION, MOVING SHADOWS, & THE DEVIL INSIDE | for everyone |
"All along I've been searching for my Lenore in the words of Mr. Edgar Allan Poe. Now I'm sober and 'Nevermore'....."
-Kremlin Dusk
Tick toc, tick toc...I can hear the clock. Every second counts; I breathe as if it were my last. Tick toc, tick toc.......
I put the music on as loud as I can to drown out a sound from my memory. But it did not work. Tick toc.... time is running out.
I shut my mouth; I close my eyes, put pillows upon my ears. I say nothing, refuse to see nor hear anything,yet I feel everything.
I still remember.
Is sound reduction possible if you are not born deaf? If only we could choose what we can hear, the world would be a better place. Choosing what you could hear is different from choosing to believe what you hear. The former leaves you without burden, without a heavy heart; the latter stains you, even subconsciously.
Tick toc, tick toc....my head spins on hyper drive, my vision creates illusions. I turn off the lights to find reality. I can see THEM, moving shadows--lingering in the dark; ready to pounce on me anytime.
Tick toc.... I run and hide. I fear they might wake the devil inside.
Aren't we all shrouding fragmented embers of our souls?
FROM MY 'BEAUTIFUL WORLD' SET:
