No way in -- No way out--- Random musings of a random night
Just the nitty gritty passing thoughts that popped into my odd little brain one night.
No way in -- No way out
No question to ask,
No thought to think.
Rotating in oblivion
The cause and the cure,
Are intangible,
Unattainable.
The sounds fail me tonight,
In an empty, dusty alcove
In some unlocatable
Position
in space and time.
I am laying motionless
Unaware
Due to some indescribable
lethargy stemming from
An expressionless,
unconventional
void.
my brain
Incoherent, racing, fluid
materials
constantly mezmerizing
tantalizing
splitting and reforming
Unexplanable.
uniqueness
is something to be
treasured,
yet hated.
The senses
only serve
as disruptors
of chaos.
Constantly breaking
Building,
Breaking,
Building,
breaking,
There's no consistency,
no routine.
Simply markers,
bouies in the sea,
constantly being lost,
found,
markers that are obliterated
But they serve no purpose.
Just damned to a life of hell
Making them
Why,
I cannot tell you.
This is me,
An unattainable goal
But there are no goals,
only filth.
Contaminated with the rotting stench
of something designed
Yet designs can never be executed
Therefore there is no purpose
No meaning
No matter what is concocted
Pointless Experience
"How many fathoms?" the captain asked.
The sailor replied, "Can't tell, sir."
They were sailing through a black substance
It engulfed everything it touched.
Thick, yet thin
A man-o-war
Charting a course
to nowhere.
Obedience
was necessary.
The quartermaster
lurked around every corner
Dissolved into walls
A solute in every tangible
substance.
They were employed
by no one.
A freelance expedition
With no sense of purpose,
no substance
No place,
no niche.
The creaking of the wood
soothed their paranoid,
schizophrenic
brains.
Contradiction
The brain is a curious thing. Often times what it wants and what action it chooses to execute are two completely different things. In my case, they are almost always. This is very strange indeed. I keep looking for why. Why does this occur? It's hard to come up with a theory. I feel like I don't know myself. I don't even know why my brain, why my thoughts, actions, feelings, operate the way they do. I can't even figure out my own motives. I constantly critique, rebuke, repel, reject. Maybe what's put in regurgitates. But no, that can't be the case. We are not mirrors that reflect exactly what others do, for if we were, no original action could be made. But maybe that is why we value uniqueness. The one who fails to spew back the monotonous existance of others, and "rises above." Yet, uniqueness can also be frowned upon, hated, scorned. Why? Why are the things most prized also most hated? There is no relief from this hell of contradiction. Men and women alike smile upon the maverick, and call him friend. Yet they also ridicule, chide, attempt to correct. Without any reason. There is no reason. The constructs of our brains mean nothing. The most burning questions pondered by humanity will never be answered, so we scramble, scurry, cut eath others' throats to answer the ones we can. We try to quench the fire with orginization, rules, standards, activities, explinations, but it will never work. Nobody is ever completely satisfied, no matter what they say. Overcomable challenge is the most healthy position for the brain to be in. What do people enjoy doing? Staring blankly at a wall with no thoughts streaming through their minds' eye? No! The brain needs challenge. It's the only thing that will keep it sane. But not insurmountable challenge. The degree to which is guaged only by the individual. I think that to be able to have every question in the universe as answerable is the state we were designed to achieve, and the goal of every human, knowing or unknowing. This is also pathetic and laughable, because such a state may never be achieved. Therefore humanity is worthless. We cannot do what we wish above all.
At a lonely place, with no location, stands a man surrounded by particles that are constantly changing colors. He is swimming in a sea of the unexplainable. Flashes in the sky present novelties that are soon gone. The man starts walking. To which destination is unimportant. He must leave this area and find somewhere else. He walks along the black vacuum of empty space, his footsteps making no sound. There is a wooden park bench floating in the middle of this void. He quickly climbs upon it before it floats away. It is very ornate. The wood is of a red tint. The woodworker's initials are still visible, yet unreadable. The man supposes time has worn them to their current state. Now he is above the particles, above all the occurances of the realm he was in only moments before. The bench is rising above all of it. He looks out and sees where he was walking from. He quickly turns around and looks the other way, excited to get a preview of the road ahead. It is marked by a grey, fog-like substance perpindicular to the blackness and swirling particles he had just traveled from. He looked up and saw the grey wall rose as far as he could see. The man then wondered about the bench. He felled compelled to find the man who had created such a magnificent piece of work. But he then realized there was no one to whom he could contribute the work, as he was the only one in this soundless space. The bench came to rest just outside of the grey wall. It moved no more and the man got off of it to continue his journey. He embarked through the grey fog and kept walking until he was completely engulfed by it. Everywhere he turned the fog was there. He felt nausea continue to grow until it was so intense he could only fall to his knees, his head spinning. The grey mass was omnipresent, watching him with invisible eyes. He could feel it becoming more dense, closing in, slowly leeching something he could not define out of his body. He felt it laughing at him, scorning his every move. Then some inner workings of dimensions unseen pulled my brain from this scene.
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