Forever traveling through cryptic channels and electric wires of my mind, an image of starlight mingling with moonlight high above a snow globe town; the village of insane lies is risen once again. The truth and fiction melt together in a swirl of blurred delineations and muddy gray areas. Reality is lost to me forever, so I join them, the masked figures who dance in the park at a quarter to midnight. They are the Introspectres, the bringers of daydreams and the steganographic truths. Day by day they tell us who we are, but we do not listen. We choose instead to sit jaded and satiated at the feast of universal anonymity and drink from the cup of disbelief.
insquequo deinde
~93
0 comments:
Post a Comment