the glimpse of the inner blur

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 So it took me forever to get this far. And it will take me no time to end it. Because though things find a way and jigsaws find their place, it is still the same situation, over and over again. Repetition should bring skill, but in reality there's more trauma to it than there is wisdom. Old dogs and new tricks, water and oil, bliss and me. But there's no rest, ever, and I know nothing about no wicked.

Instead I see the lightweight one trying to reach the sky and being lifted by the nothing around them. By the make-believe foundation in their feeds. That's beautiful. It must be that. It must be all this work and experiences that are keeping me down... anchoring me to the floor. Fairness is a construct, justice is a myth and equality a mutated beast that eats humans brains like a fucking zombie. So much left and right, now is more like a nasty disease we have to live through and die for, whether we want it or not.

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