21. 04. 19 (completely random, largely senseless, and originating from a prompt asking for absurd imagery)
Coins slip down pinball machines and into slots that chime with the ringing of religious notes that I do not rhyme, but resonate to the sound of.
Strings stretch themselves across cardboard boxes to allow me to sing to the young of heart that though far apart are roped together on the same vine that ties your meaning to mine.
Walls are created to be climbed, atleast the rough talus slopes imitated within rooms designed to falsify nature unto a mere physicality that can be replicated.
Copy machines pretend they know the content they produce but really they serve as mindless mazes that I get lost within as I try to navigate winds that carry the fragrance of spirit.
Adventure lifts our souls out of the tyrrany of conforming and into the pillowy clouds that soften the blows of whips cracking across the backs of those that try to stand in your way.
You are cruel in the mechanisms through which you interact with a world that has nothing but love (and even blind) for an image of yourself that you will not confirm nor deny.
You string us along until we jump and trapeze off into the unfaithful vacancy of space that feels empty but it crowded with hundreds of millions of stars threatening to end my existence.
Life is but a dream that memories found themselves upon and the base tastes a lot like thick concrete in ways that seat your unsure mind places its representation upon.
Resurrect not the masses but the few that have lived massively extraordinary lives and been the queens of their efficient but cruel hives, for goodness is only a treatise with some version of You.
I float away on a donut the size of the black hole at the center of our galaxy into a planet that disappears as you approach its atmosphere, in no direction other than one away.
I drift away not from you but from the hidden rules those that tell stories of your fates impose upon the most few you refuse to bless with the proof of your muse.
I wonder and I write about the beauty in art and in the eyes of somebody you truly love because the depth of that emotion transcends the platonic or romantic nature of an association.
Some links run deeper than the metal that they are made of and represent deeply ingrained biases in the very twisted fabric of spacetime itself.
My thoughts constitute a whole lot of chaos that often more than mildly resembles the dissertation above, yet I desire no escape from a prison that does not trap me.
I am free to leave
yet I choose to live
My thoughts are wonderful people
to spend weary nights with.