A blank spot enters my consciousness
A temporarily bright blackness
A blindness one receives if engaged
In an over prolonged look at the sun
A confusion hangs suspended
Now when I attempt to recall things
All I can remember is the absolute lucidity of this blank spot
This nothingness, a void of inarticulate reality
That exaggerates its intentions to consummate a separation
But never succeeds in its completion
This confusion however gives me a blinding clarity of perception
What I do recall is the realisation that I have always been someone else
The construction of a plural figure is what I have been trying to realize
Like Rimbaud I am another
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
A blank spot enters my consciousness
A temporarily bright blackness
A blindness one receives if engaged
In an over prolonged look at the sun
A confusion hangs suspended
Now when I attempt to recall things
All I can remember is the absolute lucidity of this blank spot
This nothingness, a void of inarticulate reality
That exaggerates its intentions to consummate a separation
But never succeeds in its completion
This confusion however gives me a blinding clarity of perception
What I do recall is the realisation that I have always been someone else
The construction of a plural figure is what I have been trying to realize
Like Rimbaud I am another
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