broken pieces of a holiday clock
displaced by the phantom visages of
our own vanishing hands.
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 8:55 PM UTC
broken pieces of a holiday clock
displaced by the phantom visages of
our own vanishing hands.
the world is in the process of becoming god
transient pieces of sentience wander through the miasma of existence
and depart understanding nothing
this is the state of chaos // fracturing // perplexity
light through wood beams at a pier
sand white with heat
sentience is not a closed circle
the subject is constructed through aperture, the opening of perception, a conjoining of self with world
in this process the other is not severed from the self, but encompassed within it
one becomes the negation of oneself // an infinite regress // a dialectic
when negation reaches totality god will finally come into being
history will end
and the world will die.
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