A Collection of Spectacles


01. The boundless possibilities of language were forgotten two positions ago. I search for whatever vowels and consonants I can find, tossing them into the dead air, but it’s a useless task; The act of releasing sounds doesn’t lessen the intensity of what runs along my contour, passes over and fills the area between one side of my outline and the other, moves up and down (hitting and at the same time soothing the numerous points in-between) plunges in and runs through, navigates the wires beneath my skin and forces them to rethink every connection they’ve ever made before. Precisely as you touch, sometimes gently, sometimes with a force that can’t be imagined otherwise, everything that is blissful and not is experienced simultaneously, creating a state that language has yet to create the perfect word for. If there was ever a moment that I didn’t spend scrambling, trying to find my place in temporality, if there ever was a space in which everything was found, via a void, it is there (which will be here again, soon) and nowhere else.

Overall, I need to be trusted. Just trust.

I’m losing the fervor with which I write such things, for they always seem short-lived.

I feel like I’ve written that sentence before.

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