Us in the making. Us loosing it. Us finding it.
Isolation. Because the world around you does nothing but confuse you. You forgot what your own voice sounded like. You talk in movie quotes, slogans, old quotes, new quotes, streaming slang, anything but your thoughts.
My thoughts, you remember? Your system strives to shut down. Hibernate. Plainly hide. Spend some much needed time, an eternity perhaps, with yourself. Who was that?
But that turns into a trap, if you immerse yourself too much into your self. So much that both the words you say and the words you hear in reply have the same monotone ring. Schizo you can differentiate between your little imaginary world and reality. You schizo. You stop recognizing the world outside, remember? the things that you fought for, desired, craved or feared.
Oh and then you stop recognizing your own body. Your own hands look foreign... Your thoughts drift so, so far away.
I got out and paid a high price for a decent conversation and got a high five in return. I gave up my kingdom. I let my bubble kingdom burst. That apple of knowledge looked so tasty. I thought I could do better if I knew better.
But for what do we need more words to articulate the same feeling of being lost, loneliness, human-ness. Isolation threatens to be the only exit again. Run.
I still remained a queen in the making, blow me another bubble. Waiting to conquer the inventions and questions of ancient minds. Craving the ideas built on ideas of ideas of ideas of bodies that don't even recognise themselves.
Needless words... I pursue your crown and not the crown of gold.
Daydream into a higher dream, day dream into can, want, wish.
I now pride myself in not trying normality, in not being grounded, in being alone and almost permanently misunderstood. Shine with your alien halo. Beautiful. I walk not knowing where I go. Walk.
That's when you let yourself know that you have a chase, to the kingdom of truth.
There are no castles, let alone buildings. Only uncertainty and an empty field, as vast as imagination can push it. Infinite. Filled up with nothing but potentiality, what will be? Let anything be. Possibilities fill your mind like watering water the watery plant, a stream of possibilities. That mind can't recognize its own hands, its own body, its own instrument of existence.
I wanted to tell you how I feel, but my mouth needs no human ears... it needs a heavenly microphone to shout out till my voice is gone and there's is nothing but silence, silence is the only answer now.
She will be queen, he will be king and then they will vanish and disappear. Dusty.
By Eliza Verethilo
