Shards
scattered everywhere. The glass that pure emotion forges, then once
again heated and shattered. Light and fear. At the end of a tunnel with a
deep well underneath me.
A mining operation.
These
people access my innermost thoughts. React. Play games with them.
Slowly erasing the last remnants of my free will, the choice to live
earlier nullified by abuse from unbearable stress.
Every eye a glittering jewel, positioned on the surface of a ripple in time.
Imagination,
previously unbounded by external influence, now censored. Nullified by
the chaos of thousands of dissonant ideals, maps of the universe from
the perspective of a network of externally influenced characterizations.
I do this to myself with respect to your truth. I respect that where
you are in your development may be at odds with the world around you.
The
problem, as I see it now, is one of velocity - and a lack of time to
process raw information into something more compatible with the current
location of the zeitgeist - images incompatible with the current
definition of self, not just in terms of characterization but
perspective, of oneself in regards to the world around it, and place in
social hierarchy.
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