Sep 26
Writing this I must be doing.
This I love I must I love it must.
Why?
Nothing known, doing nothing and writing and nothing.
Heh, the words melt into nothing as they say.
Ever doing nothing forget more do yet write love must nothing.
Can’t understand it anyways.
Pretending to care yet love it must I?
The papers scramble and run and wait that’s not supposed to—
Ah yes the letter? Yes the letter.
What?
Nothing must I love I must nothing love.
To love yet not loving.
Pretending it is all fine when it isn’t.
Ha.
Still pretending to care aren’t you?
Still I don’t understand what they say.
Pretending fine care understand melt love writing.
Peace?
I dunno’ maybe if I care enough to care, I’d care a bit more.
If the party is to be crashed why’d I care?
Dancing won’t help would it no it wouldn’t.
Love it I must I it love must.
Pretend care I must love care pretend?
Singing pretense care I must love must I care pretense singing.
Dancing pretentious love care letter oh the letter—
Nothing love care matter it what anymore I how anyhow must?
It didn’t matter anyways did it?
Sing?
You sing yet not are singing.
Look, it all makes perfect sense okay.
I,
Love care must it pretend fine care love melt writing singing pretense love dancing letter nothing love care it pretense matter kind more help understand peace.
Make sense?
Bye.
Second living day I rise.
Peace?
Love it must I.
Pretentious it must be.
Sing pretend story fallacy design marker book.
Ataraxia?
Bullet point on my head.
Singing not caring that I must love I pretend.
Paint the world red this day I shall.
Pretending to care love sing dance must.
Didn’t matter anyways did it not.
Canister of lies.
Paper ran away yesterday evening already.
Papers with my notes on it.
Medical probably, or pretending to be.
Singing probably helps, let’s do that.
Singularity of the mind escapes to another plane.
Desire quench desire yet birth more desire.
Lies desire must pretend singing why remember? must I there behold.
Still I can’t hear the meaning in their words.
The sun flash by like disco lights. And moon.
Never mind, this ends now.
A trigger word you say and I do it now.
Matter it will not love pretend.
Never pretend love sing care anymore nothing—
There it is.
Let the world be clear.
The third day I rise alive.
Under unfamiliar lights.
Bed not mine,
Sheets clean white.
Their groaning I still hear.
Singing,
Under which sky did you love once?
Loving pretending and pretending loving?
Did they really give me these books.
Pretend caring yet love pretending.
Pretender of love yet not lover of pretense.
Clock is ticking tocking bounding sinking drowning.
A shell of its previous self sit on the table.
Stained with pretentious love.
Comprehension indeed must birth curiosity.
Knowledge?
Format fades and incoherency invades.
Never made sense anyways.
Yet to love it is not lovingly giving.
To love is not lovingly taking.
What is it then?
Who knows someone else may have an answer—
Singing never was for me.
Pretending to care pretending to be cared.
Loving to pretend to be cared yet not knowing loving to pretend to be cared.
If one day should your logic collapse, seek help.
Yet the stars should guide me in my way, no?
No.
They love singing and dancing about loving and pretending.
Loving oneself needn’t mean care.
Loving another needn’t need love.
If pretending is all that mattered in the end then what matter was all the act I put up to those whom I cared and love and sang about?
I despise the third day.
Cut.
Last day I rise, unfulfilled.
Desire unaccomplished, request unmet.
Like a joke destiny has played on me,
To leave is to stop pretending, stop loving.
Yet what thing else could I do?
Cower in this unfamiliar place,
Like a fragile infant,
In disgrace?
Or simply speak to the caretaker of this place,
That one ought not to live who doesn’t desire life?
I cringe from the idea in fear of recognition.
I cower in horror of what may be.
Love pretend meet undesired end.
At last, a dead end.
Neither path forward nor backward, stuck in time.
Wandering and lost,In the dream we call living.
Bound to endless identical halls.
Sealed to an eternity of loss.
Now, upon this place of reflection and peace.
Naught remains but a stained past.
The blinding color of red.
This I love I must I love it must.
Why?
Nothing known, doing nothing and writing and nothing.
Heh, the words melt into nothing as they say.
Ever doing nothing forget more do yet write love must nothing.
Can’t understand it anyways.
Pretending to care yet love it must I?
The papers scramble and run and wait that’s not supposed to—
Ah yes the letter? Yes the letter.
What?
Nothing must I love I must nothing love.
To love yet not loving.
Pretending it is all fine when it isn’t.
Ha.
Still pretending to care aren’t you?
Still I don’t understand what they say.
Pretending fine care understand melt love writing.
Peace?
I dunno’ maybe if I care enough to care, I’d care a bit more.
If the party is to be crashed why’d I care?
Dancing won’t help would it no it wouldn’t.
Love it I must I it love must.
Pretend care I must love care pretend?
Singing pretense care I must love must I care pretense singing.
Dancing pretentious love care letter oh the letter—
Nothing love care matter it what anymore I how anyhow must?
It didn’t matter anyways did it?
Sing?
You sing yet not are singing.
Look, it all makes perfect sense okay.
I,
Love care must it pretend fine care love melt writing singing pretense love dancing letter nothing love care it pretense matter kind more help understand peace.
Make sense?
Bye.
Second living day I rise.
Peace?
Love it must I.
Pretentious it must be.
Sing pretend story fallacy design marker book.
Ataraxia?
Bullet point on my head.
Singing not caring that I must love I pretend.
Paint the world red this day I shall.
Pretending to care love sing dance must.
Didn’t matter anyways did it not.
Canister of lies.
Paper ran away yesterday evening already.
Papers with my notes on it.
Medical probably, or pretending to be.
Singing probably helps, let’s do that.
Singularity of the mind escapes to another plane.
Desire quench desire yet birth more desire.
Lies desire must pretend singing why remember? must I there behold.
Still I can’t hear the meaning in their words.
The sun flash by like disco lights. And moon.
Never mind, this ends now.
A trigger word you say and I do it now.
Matter it will not love pretend.
Never pretend love sing care anymore nothing—
There it is.
Let the world be clear.
The third day I rise alive.
Under unfamiliar lights.
Bed not mine,
Sheets clean white.
Their groaning I still hear.
Singing,
Under which sky did you love once?
Loving pretending and pretending loving?
Did they really give me these books.
Pretend caring yet love pretending.
Pretender of love yet not lover of pretense.
Clock is ticking tocking bounding sinking drowning.
A shell of its previous self sit on the table.
Stained with pretentious love.
Comprehension indeed must birth curiosity.
Knowledge?
Format fades and incoherency invades.
Never made sense anyways.
Yet to love it is not lovingly giving.
To love is not lovingly taking.
What is it then?
Who knows someone else may have an answer—
Singing never was for me.
Pretending to care pretending to be cared.
Loving to pretend to be cared yet not knowing loving to pretend to be cared.
If one day should your logic collapse, seek help.
Yet the stars should guide me in my way, no?
No.
They love singing and dancing about loving and pretending.
Loving oneself needn’t mean care.
Loving another needn’t need love.
If pretending is all that mattered in the end then what matter was all the act I put up to those whom I cared and love and sang about?
I despise the third day.
Cut.
Last day I rise, unfulfilled.
Desire unaccomplished, request unmet.
Like a joke destiny has played on me,
To leave is to stop pretending, stop loving.
Yet what thing else could I do?
Cower in this unfamiliar place,
Like a fragile infant,
In disgrace?
Or simply speak to the caretaker of this place,
That one ought not to live who doesn’t desire life?
I cringe from the idea in fear of recognition.
I cower in horror of what may be.
Love pretend meet undesired end.
At last, a dead end.
Neither path forward nor backward, stuck in time.
Wandering and lost,In the dream we call living.
Bound to endless identical halls.
Sealed to an eternity of loss.
Now, upon this place of reflection and peace.
Naught remains but a stained past.
The blinding color of red.
