The Rock, The Clay, and Geometry That Follows
The flipping of screens to follow with numbers trailing, and skies portraying some image or dictating the statement that we all look for. The sensation lost at the tips of humanity by the ice of complacent systems, structured by the mind and with it comes lights switching and fans circulating, drums playing on a mono stereo that will be played tomorrow; the roads that were there and are there and will be there for us to look at. This is the first day of the last day of the rest of our lives yet we don't even know it. We tantalize with affairs and other's affairs, the dramas that stimulate a single word: distraction. For if we lost the capacity to masturbate to dramas, we'd much sooner see the dusty carapaces around the glands of the third eye within ourselves. We would tear our skin to make red show, the sooner we would search for the tree stump that was always there yet, only recently appeared to us through the gaps of memory and the filling of it now attained through this...