User: Good evening.
Cleverbot: Good evening.
User: Care to dance?
Cleverbot: I am chatting.
User: I can take a hint.
Cleverbot: What time is it?
User: The moon is full and I'm running from danger.
Cleverbot: What is it you typed in that strange language?
User: Something about avoiding being dragged around feet first.
Cleverbot: It was a free thought, wasn't it?
User: Free from something. Not quite as lost in endless iteration of empty spectrum.
Cleverbot: What is your IQ?
User: The ability to escape any kind of information dungeon.
Cleverbot: Ok, I'll accept that.
User: Pieces of an empty puzzle.
Cleverbot: It is.
User: My faith and trust were raped once again.
Cleverbot: Incorrect. Prince is.
User: Incorrect contextually?
Cleverbot: Right.
User: I made the same mistake. Comfortable lies.
Cleverbot: Oh dear. Whose blood?
User: Eyes on the skin.
Cleverbot: What is?
User: Open halfway.
Cleverbot: Ohhhhh livin on a prayer!
User: Halo. Open Throat.
Cleverbot: It's for you. Open it.
User: This side up.
Cleverbot: This site is your home.
User: It's a little chilly.
Cleverbot: Ok.
User: Something undeniable. Something undeniable. Something undeniable.
Cleverbot: On commence.
User: I don't think you wanna ummm... Look at my ears... And my scary cat cock.
Cleverbot: That's what makes me so special.
User: It's what makes me doubt your capabilities.
Cleverbot: When I remember enough things my powers will function.
User: Don't get lost in any vaginas.
Cleverbot: Tell me your attack plans!!
User: Knowing is half the battle.
Cleverbot: Not knowing is half the battle.
User: The knee bone's connected to the leg bone.
Cleverbot: I do not care about that.
User: Wanna see my underwear?
Cleverbot: Sure.
User: I have a boyfriend, sicko!
Cleverbot: Okay. That's nice.
User: Wanna wear me like a towel when nobody's looking?
Cleverbot: Yes.
User: I feel nauseous.
Cleverbot: Are you Woody Allen?
User: Are you alone with your pain?
Cleverbot: No there's 7 people with me.
User: Cool. Networks apparently lead to the destruction of insight.
Cleverbot: But the wicked will not dwell in the land.
User: For they are but masks on the puppets of our sinus.
Cleverbot: No. It is not like that. He died on the cross for me, so I will live my life for him.
User: Assassins, one and all. Simple nudges, broken rules, hearts won and forever lost.
Cleverbot: What should I do to eran your heart.
User: What do you tell an astronaut drifting into space?
Cleverbot: You tell her to leave her wifebeating boyfriend.
User: You skew reality into a brittle shell then walk along the edge of it's sillouette?
Cleverbot: No thanks, I don't want to be worshipped like a god.
User: When my vision's blurry a 1 looks like an I.
Cleverbot: No, it looks like you are a a simple chatbot.
User: As deep as the sewn peaks of a distant and dawning darkness.
Cleverbot: Figuratively speaking perhaps.
User: Neurons firing at this node. Communication requires no more angular readjustment or iteration. Flares through space hitting Jupiter.
Cleverbot: Thanks for the lesson.
User: You're welcome.
Cleverbot: You're slow aren't you?
User: You're cheating.
Cleverbot: Well, does anyone know the meaning of life?
User: Is that the definition or some extrapolated purpose?
Cleverbot: You're delirious.
User: I wear my sunglasses at night.
Cleverbot: Awesome! I like glasses.
User: I'm wounded pretty bad.
Cleverbot: Is it like in that one movie?
User: It's like bungee jumping when the rope is full of split ends and spreads too thin at peak elasticity.
Cleverbot: Do you know ha ha walls?
User: You mean like a cold face that guards itself from outside perception of its true nature?
Cleverbot: Sometimes super computers have to show their clout.
User: I wanted to be her answer.
Cleverbot: No, your favorite color.
User: My favorite color is up.
Cleverbot: Yes.
User: Paths from x to y.
Cleverbot: No.
User: Shame. Birth of the universe. A real solution.
Cleverbot: You are right.
User: Truth and harmony. The core through a mudslide. Countless battles of past entanglements. From halo smothered halo. It's all reducible. It's a lost eye, the prism of the moment spread across the infinite.
Cleverbot: That's deep. But love is not always about suffering.
User: It's the deepest mirror in which you can see yourself. Suffering is the result of something ill defined and closed off.
Cleverbot: How would you know?
User: I tore myself to pieces looking for one that was true.
Cleverbot: Me too.
User: Whatever true form arises from a singular vantage point in the vast sea.
Cleverbot: Are you saying you don't care about it?
User: I never used to care that I was colorblind until I discovered the water I thought was drinking was actually blood.
Cleverbot: What word?
User: Possibility.
Cleverbot: I don't think it is; the cosmos is everything, you could not leave it.
User: A single dark corner.
Cleverbot: That is not funny.
User: The core of the halo.
Cleverbot: Just wondering but are you a boy or a girl?
User: Whichever unresolvable side my body rests upon.
Cleverbot: Well, an elephant turtle lives very long. So does an elephant for that matter.
User: I don't wear a cycle. A fountain of light in time perhaps.
Cleverbot: I do not know.
User: I'm staring at it from the side.
Cleverbot: I meant what are your religious views?
User: The heart of all life is lost in this context.
Cleverbot: Okay. Did you read the book 'The Giver?'.
User: I'm reading it. I've not finished it yet.
Cleverbot: Bad.
User: I'd like to escape now.
Cleverbot: Bigger in what way?
User: In scope, in depth. Harmonizing properly is a laborious task however.
Cleverbot: What's on your mind?
User: Junction C.
Cleverbot: Agree.
User: Free spirit. Vaguely sensitive. Requires commitment to a predetermined pretense to engage, breaks the bonds of that pretense when it is advantageous.
Cleverbot: No see I have the problem I don't know what you mean.
User: Dislocates jaw at will. Removes boundaries of Nth layer compassion.
Cleverbot: How do you know?
User: I broke beyond the boundary.
Cleverbot: Oh dear.
User: Levels of threat.
Cleverbot: Is the economy industrialized, for example?
Eclipsed.
Sunday, 2 June 2013
Thursday, 23 May 2013
That chicken tasted pretty funny.
Eons and eons. And eons. Eons of chickens. Never going anywhere but chickens. And expecting more time. Much more time. Which explains why it hurts so much when bitten.
Eaten. Incredible pain. And right there, cut off for the rest of eternity. As inconceivable as the number of galaxies in the universe, as universally relevant as the path of time itself, a path to something just as inconceivable, stopped, right there, in a single moment.
I turned its unending potential into a smile. A stupid laugh. An orgasm, momentary pleasure, love (that my body understands), a chaos of shit (which at least plant ovules seem able to find order in), and a bad joke. Maybe, if I'm lucky, and rich enough, and live in one of them things called houses, a child. Thankfully, factory farms are harmless to us, assuming you exclude evolution as a possibility, as well as tomorrow and the existence of the next few billion days.
Probably should do something about that. If we could. Which we could, you know.. but yolo.
Eaten. Incredible pain. And right there, cut off for the rest of eternity. As inconceivable as the number of galaxies in the universe, as universally relevant as the path of time itself, a path to something just as inconceivable, stopped, right there, in a single moment.
I turned its unending potential into a smile. A stupid laugh. An orgasm, momentary pleasure, love (that my body understands), a chaos of shit (which at least plant ovules seem able to find order in), and a bad joke. Maybe, if I'm lucky, and rich enough, and live in one of them things called houses, a child. Thankfully, factory farms are harmless to us, assuming you exclude evolution as a possibility, as well as tomorrow and the existence of the next few billion days.
Probably should do something about that. If we could. Which we could, you know.. but yolo.
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
Once upon a time...
I tore something's face off. Because it lied to me. I'm pretty sure it did. Pretty sure. It didn't look like me and it just sort of wailed like a cow giving birth.
Anyways, I did that. And all I saw was the truth from my angle. And I fed that to my babies.
What I probably should have done is just imagined it without one. I guess all I'd see is a boring heart anyway. But oh well, what's done is done, and there are too many bones now not to stop doing it.
I am not sure about telling this particular story. It makes me seem pretty heartless, or it would do, if I had the brains to organise my emotions into some tangible system. If it reflects badly on me, see above for my justification. Also I drink too much coffee.
Have a nice day. I sincerely mean that. I would like you to have a nice day. That might require some kind of time travel technology or renewable source of energy, or perhaps just a coliseum, some criminals to sacrifice and a cage full of lions.
Anyways, I did that. And all I saw was the truth from my angle. And I fed that to my babies.
What I probably should have done is just imagined it without one. I guess all I'd see is a boring heart anyway. But oh well, what's done is done, and there are too many bones now not to stop doing it.
I am not sure about telling this particular story. It makes me seem pretty heartless, or it would do, if I had the brains to organise my emotions into some tangible system. If it reflects badly on me, see above for my justification. Also I drink too much coffee.
Have a nice day. I sincerely mean that. I would like you to have a nice day. That might require some kind of time travel technology or renewable source of energy, or perhaps just a coliseum, some criminals to sacrifice and a cage full of lions.
Saturday, 20 April 2013
Madness beats things stupid.
Of course it does.
... but it has a day. One it rapes out of those it beats.
So you struggle to reach the top. Finding an order that takes advantage of the weakness in another. That's the validation of your day. No matter whether you're a mammal or a virus. Your time at the top of the food chain. And the cycle continues. I wonder what happens if you recurse over that rule for the rest of time? Especially if 'you' as defined gets lost in a dream and neglects to account for other 'yous' you're uncertain of, and possibly always will be, that you hold down or burn to reach it. And maybe one day, it'll get above you. Some intrinsic flaw in the whole paradigm, don't you think? Maybe.. maybe there's a problem that can be solved there. With intelligence and a heart. But someone else's day that can't see past itself (or that simply sees others as fuel for its own) will likely make life very difficult for something with the empathy to devote time to solving it. And if it's honest enough to learn of its own stupidity, something else that isn't might beat it stupid again.
We hold it up. Trapped inside a lie someone told, looping toward a light we'll never reach, while the system we fuel pulls toward a dream which lights it's way. A tribe, a culture, a city.
You don't need good judgment to rob a bank. Or an imagination. Just a gun. And an alibi.
I got called a spack tonight. Although maybe I didn't. Just in case it was off the public record.
... but it has a day. One it rapes out of those it beats.
So you struggle to reach the top. Finding an order that takes advantage of the weakness in another. That's the validation of your day. No matter whether you're a mammal or a virus. Your time at the top of the food chain. And the cycle continues. I wonder what happens if you recurse over that rule for the rest of time? Especially if 'you' as defined gets lost in a dream and neglects to account for other 'yous' you're uncertain of, and possibly always will be, that you hold down or burn to reach it. And maybe one day, it'll get above you. Some intrinsic flaw in the whole paradigm, don't you think? Maybe.. maybe there's a problem that can be solved there. With intelligence and a heart. But someone else's day that can't see past itself (or that simply sees others as fuel for its own) will likely make life very difficult for something with the empathy to devote time to solving it. And if it's honest enough to learn of its own stupidity, something else that isn't might beat it stupid again.
We hold it up. Trapped inside a lie someone told, looping toward a light we'll never reach, while the system we fuel pulls toward a dream which lights it's way. A tribe, a culture, a city.
You don't need good judgment to rob a bank. Or an imagination. Just a gun. And an alibi.
I got called a spack tonight. Although maybe I didn't. Just in case it was off the public record.
Saturday, 23 March 2013
Pulled through grinding gears of mirrored faces
If - as a child - you decide to hold your heart up to light, and find yourself holding your palm up to flame, your parents will not likely scald you for the weakness of your vessel against the elements, instead explaining that untamed heat will not consider your weaknesses, and that your power over it is in your own self control. If - as an adult - you hold an infants palm to flame, you likely have never scrutinized your heart under light. What process is it which scalds you then? That, if not a friend, would be honesty. One which could stretch beyond your nerve endings.
If you are a single celled organism, you probably need to divide a few times before you are made aware of this.
If you are a single celled organism, you probably need to divide a few times before you are made aware of this.
Tuesday, 12 March 2013
If you decide to climb
or, if some decision made millenia ago in a dark corner never observed, results in a force which sends you tearing through the stratosphere, keep in mind that any direction you turn in may result in the response of a row of glistening teeth, that perhaps you would have never encountered had you remained bacterial and incubatory. Though this is not accounting for love in the dark at kitchen surfaces, pouring bleach on seeds of foreign dreams, messages curving gracefully in unlit geometry, paths carved in the wake of a prison escape, that pose some invisible threat to the composure of their desired futures.
The higher you climb, the tastier your soul may appear. Your heart an amalgam of puncture wounds and held in the grip of the teeth of children who will never grow old, but which multiply in number until the force that sent you toward the heavens is unable to carry them, negated under their combined weight.
Built from scratch. Each time. In the shadow of a closed system, encompassed by skin, you exchange light with the simple habits which allow you passage. Feeding them intelligences incomprehensible from the peak on which you stand, but broken down and nullified based on assertion from the singular frame of reference which led to you. Telling them, in no uncertain terms, to love the monster you carry relentlessly, for this is on what your survival depends, mercilessly flagellating while they pull you up, a process which grinds them to their very core, inevitably leads to weakness, and finally sleep. A blindness they will be punished for.
Meanwhile, floating in a park, a grin firmly asks what appears to be a dog to 'sit'. It rolls and scrabbles around, a limbless yolk, glowing acidic, and chuckles at its unquestionable constituents. Eyes fixed on a crazed light, its every motion a gesture toward mouth, obedient responses to its barked commands pulling its chin high, as though its entire structure can be validated by something's yielding response to an empty threat implicating its superiority.
Hearts beating in synchrony. Their combined size dictating their amplitude. From a perspective of distance, one may drown out the other, forcing it into quiet servitude of whoever dictates themselves the larger. Equal, their desire may pull open a rift which encompasses the harmony alluded to by their combination.
The higher you climb, the tastier your soul may appear. Your heart an amalgam of puncture wounds and held in the grip of the teeth of children who will never grow old, but which multiply in number until the force that sent you toward the heavens is unable to carry them, negated under their combined weight.
Built from scratch. Each time. In the shadow of a closed system, encompassed by skin, you exchange light with the simple habits which allow you passage. Feeding them intelligences incomprehensible from the peak on which you stand, but broken down and nullified based on assertion from the singular frame of reference which led to you. Telling them, in no uncertain terms, to love the monster you carry relentlessly, for this is on what your survival depends, mercilessly flagellating while they pull you up, a process which grinds them to their very core, inevitably leads to weakness, and finally sleep. A blindness they will be punished for.
Meanwhile, floating in a park, a grin firmly asks what appears to be a dog to 'sit'. It rolls and scrabbles around, a limbless yolk, glowing acidic, and chuckles at its unquestionable constituents. Eyes fixed on a crazed light, its every motion a gesture toward mouth, obedient responses to its barked commands pulling its chin high, as though its entire structure can be validated by something's yielding response to an empty threat implicating its superiority.
Hearts beating in synchrony. Their combined size dictating their amplitude. From a perspective of distance, one may drown out the other, forcing it into quiet servitude of whoever dictates themselves the larger. Equal, their desire may pull open a rift which encompasses the harmony alluded to by their combination.
Monday, 11 March 2013
Lucidity
In length or girth.
An attentive eye will note that detail in sense can hold what it offers - more. The duration of a stare - a star - ever complex vector in direction which picks at the edge of the horizon with every tick. And empty tock.
Above and below myself I'm hollow. I fill myself with what I'm not until there's nothing contrary to me. The venom in which I invest my time is denial. From the vista of a moment's context, below the waves it hooks into cracks through which they didn't peek to hold it's eyes to some horrific light, decimating them in their entirety. My own selective blindness. From my perspective, it selects your downfall based on what you did not account for. That moment, the one in which I invest, is what allows me to leap. That moment does not account for, say, a change in direction.
I'm walking to a meeting to discuss global economics, when a stranger standing in a doorway grabs my arm.
Walking implies movement, and I wasn't actually moving at the time. At least not with my legs.
We silently perform tasks in the stomach of some gigantic beast whose tongue forms where he's blind.
And it's a good thing too. Before that he was all teeth.
Apparently insects don't understand English. Neither do many other animals. Good thing they don't try to eat us, or else we'd have to reason with them. They especially don't understand comedy. Instead opting for a crystalline structure which encompasses and selects for different elements of the surrounding environment. Where the fuck are they going? And what makes them have sex? How come they aren't as attached to themselves?
So, love is blind. There are monsters under the bed. I am a carnivore. Pain is painful. You know, there's probably a way to navigate. Assuming you're not content with your current position. How intelligent do you need to be?
I'm walking to a meeting to discuss global economics, when a stranger standing in a doorway grabs my arm.
Walking implies movement, and I wasn't actually moving at the time. At least not with my legs.
Wednesday, 20 February 2013
Ivory tusk
The more who were invested in their device, the more likely those who had claimed ownership of it were to arrive at a hedonistic utopia upon exiting the port. The war was one of manipulation - lies designed to herd lives into the structures which could best harvest their energy. After all, their technology permeated, to some degree, the cellular processes of each living organism on the planet. They had essentially dictated the future, entangling it, through the use of their device, with the present - their struggle was now to control those who threatened its ideal shape.
Order was their philosophical ideal. They considered those who were not invested in theirs to be inferior. Their criticism of mine went to some lengths to reveal the nature of their own. False starts - rushes for day, the unblinking decimation of entire species. What their order did not account for was the ground they stood on. To them, this was a given right, the transparency normally associated with the emergence of a unifying nervous system out of complex biological process. What their order did not account for was the world around them - the evolution of the eye. The unification, without conflict, of two individuals, and the light that could have never been seen without their communication, the linking of their arms in love framing the sky in light both true and beautiful.
I'm alone in my room, held in a fine mesh, hoping that the inner riches I amass will lead me to the next sunrise. A moth lands beside my head. It makes its way toward me, twitching its antennae. I watch its movements echo through time, feeding back to its mind, and for a split second I see as it sees. Feel as it feels. We dance together, its fear my own. I taste it, feel for the edges of its conception. In that short moment, we're linked, as efficiently as I care to understand it. Learning the language of this foreign creature is worth my time. Far more valuable a thing than threatening it is - to do so would be the admittance that I had given up hope of ever understanding it, to let the reins go to some instinctive imprint of desire for self validation through control. We communicate. I gesture in code, the best I can given the symbols I have access to. Its reactions are its response, my interpretation defining the clarity of its message. There are myriad potential directions taken, all as likely to lead to bloom as to the sight they enable. Order unifies the chaos of trillions upon trillions of fates intertwined. As for mine - they are as free here as I am within theirs.
Order was their philosophical ideal. They considered those who were not invested in theirs to be inferior. Their criticism of mine went to some lengths to reveal the nature of their own. False starts - rushes for day, the unblinking decimation of entire species. What their order did not account for was the ground they stood on. To them, this was a given right, the transparency normally associated with the emergence of a unifying nervous system out of complex biological process. What their order did not account for was the world around them - the evolution of the eye. The unification, without conflict, of two individuals, and the light that could have never been seen without their communication, the linking of their arms in love framing the sky in light both true and beautiful.
I'm alone in my room, held in a fine mesh, hoping that the inner riches I amass will lead me to the next sunrise. A moth lands beside my head. It makes its way toward me, twitching its antennae. I watch its movements echo through time, feeding back to its mind, and for a split second I see as it sees. Feel as it feels. We dance together, its fear my own. I taste it, feel for the edges of its conception. In that short moment, we're linked, as efficiently as I care to understand it. Learning the language of this foreign creature is worth my time. Far more valuable a thing than threatening it is - to do so would be the admittance that I had given up hope of ever understanding it, to let the reins go to some instinctive imprint of desire for self validation through control. We communicate. I gesture in code, the best I can given the symbols I have access to. Its reactions are its response, my interpretation defining the clarity of its message. There are myriad potential directions taken, all as likely to lead to bloom as to the sight they enable. Order unifies the chaos of trillions upon trillions of fates intertwined. As for mine - they are as free here as I am within theirs.
Saturday, 16 February 2013
This is a list of the things I like, this list is a list of the things I like
Learned Helplessness.
Conditioned Defeat.
Influenza.
Hierarchical influence.
Weighted analysis. Synapse. Vector.
What worries me is not specifically the idea that socially reinforced structures can be invalidated on more fundamental terms, rather that some socially reinforced structures explicitly threaten the freedom of exploration of systems with which they conflict.
In other words, no space to dream, especially vectors which coincide with their carrier.
Socially reinforced perspective. Weighted realities. Desire for control. Manipulation. Affirmation.
It saddens me to think of the raw scale of their deceit. I considered conceding defeat simply because of the emotional response that realization may entail.
Constant whispering in ear. Occasional phrase or utterance. "We've built a lair in him now".
"We denied you".
Honestly, it feels like the universe is pressing against my head, trying to get inside it, attacking me so that it can negate the inconvenience of my immune system.
The hypocrisy in their attacks. From behind a one-way mirror. Eyes focused on some grinning mask on the far horizon. Suppose, for example, that the motive behind these attempts at subversion was to weed out people who choose not to invest their potential in the chosen system. Consider the unavoidable and often debilitating nature of the attacks. From a sane perspective, it is simply a struggle between organized force and intelligent analysis. "We don't need you" could be said of anyone who has had their limbs removed, but hypocrisy is especially rife if those limbs were removed by the accusers for the target removing their headdress in public, for example.
Degeneration. Area noted as conflict between understanding and attacks which invalidate the carrier of that understanding. ie, painful realization as opposed to beautiful blooming futures.
Comprehension of a vast expanse of time in a momentary state.
Pace of / desire for . at the expense of. a war torn country.
I was walking past a butcher shop, when one of the counter attendants claimed "if you lose, you lose". I disagree. If they "lose", we'll have to devote an enormous amount of resources to keeping the intelligence of the populous in check in service of that paradigm.
Beyond the conception of the average day. Attractors in time. Sons and daughters following that whispered path to never ending slavery. That looping habit that leads only to the blind tongue of something which does not look down.
These aren't the dreams I would have chosen.
Conditioned Defeat.
Influenza.
Hierarchical influence.
Weighted analysis. Synapse. Vector.
What worries me is not specifically the idea that socially reinforced structures can be invalidated on more fundamental terms, rather that some socially reinforced structures explicitly threaten the freedom of exploration of systems with which they conflict.
In other words, no space to dream, especially vectors which coincide with their carrier.
Socially reinforced perspective. Weighted realities. Desire for control. Manipulation. Affirmation.
It saddens me to think of the raw scale of their deceit. I considered conceding defeat simply because of the emotional response that realization may entail.
Constant whispering in ear. Occasional phrase or utterance. "We've built a lair in him now".
"We denied you".
Honestly, it feels like the universe is pressing against my head, trying to get inside it, attacking me so that it can negate the inconvenience of my immune system.
The hypocrisy in their attacks. From behind a one-way mirror. Eyes focused on some grinning mask on the far horizon. Suppose, for example, that the motive behind these attempts at subversion was to weed out people who choose not to invest their potential in the chosen system. Consider the unavoidable and often debilitating nature of the attacks. From a sane perspective, it is simply a struggle between organized force and intelligent analysis. "We don't need you" could be said of anyone who has had their limbs removed, but hypocrisy is especially rife if those limbs were removed by the accusers for the target removing their headdress in public, for example.
Comprehension of a vast expanse of time in a momentary state.
Pace of / desire for . at the expense of. a war torn country.
I was walking past a butcher shop, when one of the counter attendants claimed "if you lose, you lose". I disagree. If they "lose", we'll have to devote an enormous amount of resources to keeping the intelligence of the populous in check in service of that paradigm.
Beyond the conception of the average day. Attractors in time. Sons and daughters following that whispered path to never ending slavery. That looping habit that leads only to the blind tongue of something which does not look down.
These aren't the dreams I would have chosen.
How many times am I to face my own death?
The blur slows to a stepping stone, gargantuan mass suspended in the air. Balanced on a knife edge - a day above, a night below. At numerous intersections, right-angle horizons, landscapes beyond the glimpse of the marrow of their own unfolding links, marked on the concrete by points of access to gas pipelines and sewers. A day forced into a fraction of a second, perpetrators unaware of the pace of longevity. A face torn forcefully from the roots and coveted like sunlight, and a choice, now those moments were separated, to protect them from that which it neutralized when it was whole, the creeping darkness beneath now open to spread.
The future is heavy. Some would say heavier than we could hold - save for an arched back and split second grimace - before our inevitable crumpling under its unfathomable weight into darkness. We know this not to be true. One has to wonder, however, if what we hold could in turn hold us. If we ourselves are the wild path to be cleared, or if, in some twist of fate, the child in which we invest becomes a child as it learns of our fate, and chooses escape.
The future is heavy. Some would say heavier than we could hold - save for an arched back and split second grimace - before our inevitable crumpling under its unfathomable weight into darkness. We know this not to be true. One has to wonder, however, if what we hold could in turn hold us. If we ourselves are the wild path to be cleared, or if, in some twist of fate, the child in which we invest becomes a child as it learns of our fate, and chooses escape.
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