Cogito, ergo sum...
He had a disease... anxious flagellation underneath a structurally compliant form.
The more he ran, the more he was manipulated. But, one doesn't know that his world is a cage until he's cornered, with no escape.
His dull, everyday eyes are atrocious. They lack the spark of ingenuity. From the outside, he's just another machine, and his back is against the abyss.
To reach forward, to plunge past the veil and save him -- impossible. He is and always will be of his own accord.
There is a deafening roar, an inexorate wind blowing all around. He can barely keep himself from being cast out into the hazy gray storm. As he clings on, he thinks to himself.
"Since when have I been so obsessed by the idea of becoming a fellow citizen to the point that I've killed my own personality? And this is the result? I'm a complete failure."
As he stares outward, away from the world, he sees an infinite expanse of nothing. The wind is howling, pulling him slowly towards a conclusive exile. And slowly, he smiles to himself.
"Never doubt the system. Obey all the rules. These are the requirements of a fellow citizen. It looks like I won't make it as a fellow citizen, in the end."
Within the chaos, the door connecting himself to the world grows smaller. His arms outstretched, he opens his eyes. Ominous and intense, they shine with an infected, calculating stare. They're the kind of eyes that penetrate through the corporeal, ripping apart preconceptions and faux innocence. They are the eyes of realization.
"It's over. It's all over."
Arms outstretched, he slowly closes his eyes and releases himself to the wind.
--
Are we only what people remember?
After we've passed, are our values dismembered?
I'm not just a sore, an infected brain...
Yet every day is torturous in its own selfish way.
The more he ran, the more he was manipulated. But, one doesn't know that his world is a cage until he's cornered, with no escape.
His dull, everyday eyes are atrocious. They lack the spark of ingenuity. From the outside, he's just another machine, and his back is against the abyss.
To reach forward, to plunge past the veil and save him -- impossible. He is and always will be of his own accord.
There is a deafening roar, an inexorate wind blowing all around. He can barely keep himself from being cast out into the hazy gray storm. As he clings on, he thinks to himself.
"Since when have I been so obsessed by the idea of becoming a fellow citizen to the point that I've killed my own personality? And this is the result? I'm a complete failure."
As he stares outward, away from the world, he sees an infinite expanse of nothing. The wind is howling, pulling him slowly towards a conclusive exile. And slowly, he smiles to himself.
"Never doubt the system. Obey all the rules. These are the requirements of a fellow citizen. It looks like I won't make it as a fellow citizen, in the end."
Within the chaos, the door connecting himself to the world grows smaller. His arms outstretched, he opens his eyes. Ominous and intense, they shine with an infected, calculating stare. They're the kind of eyes that penetrate through the corporeal, ripping apart preconceptions and faux innocence. They are the eyes of realization.
"It's over. It's all over."
Arms outstretched, he slowly closes his eyes and releases himself to the wind.
--
Are we only what people remember?
After we've passed, are our values dismembered?
I'm not just a sore, an infected brain...
Yet every day is torturous in its own selfish way.
posted by Anonymous at 4:57 PM
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