Dirty Fractyl
2002-09-10 01:33:15 (UTC)

constructing our web


We've spun our way down the branch and begun to make the
crosshatchings of our construct of reality, begun to set
the corners that will be the traps of our accquaintences,
and visualized our reserved role within the whole scheme of
existance. And now we sit idle, watching our labyrinth of
silk, ambling over the tresses of its structure and
reassuring ourselves of its, and our, self-worth. We've
spun our enigmas, and begun to weave them together.

For you, love, it was a solitary decision on simplicity,
the mere opting for the path of least resistance. And that
is just as well for some. Yet there are others that dream
of leaving an elaborate legacy, of building an empire like
Genghis Khan, before passing it to their offspring, the
Kubla. A meglomanicism towards inheriting the structure of
the mind, the madness that was wrought with the gift
becomes obsessive and all patterns shift towards infinity
in the mind of the mortal. Even our very particles will be
reused in the budding of new life forms.

I've shed my blood in a dynamic equilibrium with your
pulse, watched the ebb and flow of your love, and left
without leaving my imprints on that shore. The resistance
of your will was enough to sear those memories and imprint
them eternally on my psyche. And yet, at times, I am
hardly aware of their existance.

There has always been these phantasmic dreams that molt
themselves over my subconscious in the early morning and
enrapture me in a false reality. The timeless state of my
emotions seem classic, ever frozen in a moment of bliss, of
misfortune, of uncertainty; unable to see before or beyond
it. It is as though being caught at that vertical
asymptote and being holistically paralyzed by the binding
forces of every combative force reality can offer. And
then I awake and the vision's momentary force is broken,
but not without leaving its singing burns around the
outside of my vision. It reminds there are semblances of
memories that serve only to remind of failure, it seems.

And still, I dream on, dreaming the same dreams, and hoping
that the causality of dreams remain in their place and the
elements that comprise reality remain constant and
comprehendable, allowing me to map my way through the
universe and life.