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When the mirror breaks.

Vanity has never really been my strong suit, although I can see the function of being like other people, but seven years is seven years gone by. The bad luck has seeped in like a bad headache, and the rest of the world receives this information in the slow, casual way. My mind feels like a fortune cookie, and I don’t know where to put that energy at all. The straining cracks in the glass, the sound is audible from meters away, and yet I still stand there waiting for it to break. My anger is the outlet, and the puppet dances alone in the darkness inside, both the head and the heart. The electricity skips and crackles across the page to put on a show, and synapses can’t respond fast enough before the doll spasms into motion. That is the performance, my friends, and it is Here that we have been blessing and curse. All of it in pursuit of the knowledge that will move the imagined progress at a gradually favorable pace. “Technologic”, and its materialized gimmickry known as technology, is excelling beyond even a creator’s dreams and nightmares could fathom as being anything more than a subconscious will. Are we the spasming dolls in the darkness? Is the coming device of restraint going to be enforced with more technology? Are we to be flogged again and again by these new world inquisitions? The cryptic lip-smacking has become a painful reminder of the predicament that I have placed myself into. With careful hands, moved by the desire to satisfy my outlet’s energy, and the need to move the audible sound into focus. Electric minds motion the hum of darkness performing the duties, blessing and cursing the casual world with beautiful hands, and fortune cookie vanity. Disaster-deranged through moral lens, and logic defends bad luck brain dead, for the sake of realism amusing the listeners’ abstract relay of pain and humor and irony. The vision is still the same viable thing, but it is then that you look to the relevant tangibility within the vision, to manifest the answer to your questions that have created themselves to teach. Teach yourself the words that you know the song to, hum it while you think through all that clutter, and beyond the distraction will be found that recuperative resolve that is necessary through harsh storms of internal rhythm and beat. As these whippoorwills combine essential nature with the harmony and melody present inside of all living things. There are few things to look forward to other than dreams. Imagining and spawning thousands upon thousands of possibilities. Are you done yet? No.

Thanks, khet.