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Xero
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Dawn; light drips into the dark pool of night, bringing warmth to everything as it crawls across the landscape. Slow persistance, patiently pushing out the darkness. A planet is like a battlefield for light and darkness. Light prevails then is pushed away again. Darkness barely has time to boast until it is vanquished. I guess you could live in perpetual "day" if you kept moving around the earth with the light.
Light creates shadows but can a shadow create a shadow? My body is a vessel, a temple, and instrument. My mind is a sword a weapon of both offense and defense. A self seems like an infinite regress of layers. Flesh, blood, bone, mind, emotion, spirit. Blood flows red but what is the color of sadness? Of hate,love, desire? The mind trapped in a prison of flesh. On the battlegrounds of your dreams you're an unstoppable, immerciful machine dealing death to all who stand in your way. The flesh is weak, it gives in, retreats, hurts, bleeds, DIES!!!
Excersize the body so the mind can use it. A weapon yielded by an illogically logical 'sword'. We're designed like we would design an AI, with built in fail-safes. The strongest bodies with the weakest minds, the strongest minds with the weakest bodies. Now that is sick irony. Darwinism seems confused by its own laws.
Wouldn't it be wonderful to see things through the eyes of a bird? Someone thought this once and then made it their reality. This is why humans build buildings and slowly cause the sixth extinction while all other forms of life have to yield to our fleating fancies, changes of office, and generation gaps. Sometimes it seems like humans think to much to think. Anarchism in our minds, our thoughts revolt against the general theme. The schema of our dreams ends up to be aspects of our waking life anyways so why dream? Like masturbatio with out the payoff someone said.
Why care? Why love? Why be affected by the fucking beauty that I drown in everyday? The smell of her hair, the feel of her touch, like a thousand orgasms in my soul.
What is life? A century, to the lucky or unlucky, of history. We live in a time that ends up being nothing but history. Our future is nothing but a documented past. A file on some database. A name, an address, a number. It appears that everything can be coded, broken down, disassembled in an unobservable fraction of the time it took to create. All of it ending in ashes, even what we leave behind.
What lasts forever? What is forever? Forever is how long you live, life is forever. I'll live forever because that is all I will know. When they come to take you what will you say? Qhat will flash before your eyes? A house, a car, a CD player? Or will it be emotions spent and earned?
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020208
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