Atrophy of Being a Human Being

Everything is happening. Everything. You cannot keep up. The human brain is not made for this. Or is it? Thought after thought after thought. Spirals of thought. You cannot make it out intact. The metropolis is a machine. Reboot. Snowfall is super deep. Rubber galoshes. Petite deaths under eiderdown. Everything is replayed. Begin at the beginning: before you know what happens next. Muscles in your lower back. Buttocks. Eyeballs twitch decoding human behavior in an environment. You just have to worry about being worried. Spaghetti thoughts. Fusilli. Everything gets twisted on a fork. You knock on doors. People spy you through peepholes. Eyeballs the size of grapes. You breathe. Inhale: exhale a vapor wave. Tastes like metal. Orange rust. Machines pump you for data. Your head aches from the vacuum. This is experience. You take what you can get. Night raids keep happening. The metropolis is under siege. Or so the machine says. You are skeptical. You hear the sirens. You hear the flying-machines. No explosions. Only hearsay. The war against war is the hardest fight. Your earholes listen to signals intelligence. Signal & noise. Mostly noise. Your brain puts the information into a blender. Chop. Pulse. Frappe. You are getting better at being okay. That is very dangerous. Laissez-faire is a lazy fascism. Or perhaps you are right. This is just how it is. Always was. Always will be. Something in you resists. A fingertip. A big toe. Language can ignite the aether. People are quantum beings. Not sure anybody can hold on to anything for very long. You might be different. You might be the one. You flip light-switches on/off with abandon. Neighbors are made nervous by the way you shovel snow. You reject a “manufactured mind.” You crave control: you crave escape. Night vision encourages night walks. Sometimes you say to yourself: I am having a hard time being who I am. Sometimes you say: Fuck it. The snow keeps falling. You trudge through ass-high drifts. You do not want to freeze in the metropolis. No. Keep going. The refrigerator keeps humming. At least that, right? The technology to make ice cubes. Snowballs. The Mesozoic Era. The Holocene. We are spiral-time travellers. Are you caught in a vortex? Of course you are. Sorcerers of time are rerecording your mind. Watch carefully. Observe the micropause. Not all devices are manufactured to specifications. We engage in hysterical realism. A mass psychosis. We are fugitives on the Lavinian shores. Defecting into defect after defect. Some thoughts are faster than others. You feed signals into a machine. The machine is hungry. Devouring & giving birth to Reality. Shiva the Destroyer. Kali the black night. You linger at the edge of the Void. We are the elsewheres of tomorrow. We are the butterflies and the dragonflies. You think you can go no deeper? You can. I calculate your probability at .00004005045000500213244217786999. You impress me. The potential. Cannot wait until you collapse into being.