Sunday, 11 March 2018

The Paramount Experience

Was it like a dead-calm before the storm?


Or rather a sense of confinement, solid walls and concrete darkness,
enthropic dispersion of subjective thruths?

At least it's tangible, and now,
even if there is no innocence to be gained
by taking part in the pillage and plunder
of what it is to be human,
as there is no honour in folly
(in living through another bottleneck or all the way to extinction),

Nothing left to do
but to lie down,
loosen that desperate hold,
and let it all go, let apathy in

Draw back into your shell
and let your spine squirm free,
give room for the reptile to breathe,
bathe with it in the waning sun,
taste the air tongue out

Then fall to dreamless sleep
and tomorrow will find you
blank, cold and barely remembering
as if the past wasn't yours

and you are in no hurry,
but wake up to hunger,
awaken by hunger

rise to be rooted out

and gathered
in a ripping tide

to witness the birth of a new instinct
that opens you up
and fills your voids with hurt,
ties you to the certainty of the earth
overwhelming with compulsion

eroding past worlds,
you peak, another wave,
in the wave function,
of what it is to be alive.

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