Static's blog

I search old, dead parts of my self veiled by a sea of citalopram and I find this place.

I look up at the blue sky and see radiation keeping us mortal, amongst other cosmic installations.

I look down at this carbon-based lifeform infused with transient existence

And I being the product of chemistry have only my spiritual neurology perpetuated by energy

Return to an economy of synthetic prismatic worth and purpose

By order of the international gavel

For as I see everything now
I remember the old corridor
In which my mystical blood comprised the spherical mantelpiece

It was the half-year
It was the half-life
It was the English Poet's memento
His journey

I remember when I sat there
And the pseudo-journey
Came to a quiet, definite end

I remember how it set the corridor aflame
As the final smiles and happiness
Detonated the dam withholding the power of the absolute adjudicator
Despond

I remember how I wandered
Through two schools- one of murdered students
And was probed to write empirically- in the living, real one

In the name of misery
I signed the blue paperwork and fled
For 1/2 and the futility of everything
Was truth

In the name of harmony and goodness
Quarantine the sick
Leave them alone in the dark

In the name of kindness
Be silenced and imprisoned
Be lonely and weeping
Immune

Yes, I remember that frequency
The drop of methylene blue
That created the waning half-year
Absolutely

Yes, I remember the medical amino acids
And Adenosine Triphosphate
And the other Biochemistry of Neural Equilibrium

Yes, I remember the latest frequency of sunlight
The recurring call
Of the angry empirical world
Forevermore

Watch the blue continue to propagate
Watch the oscillation of intrinsic entropic efficacy
And remember the multifariousness, the universality of words
Cotangent to lost and searching hearts
Forevermore

Event: Interval End
Subject: Static
Status: Cancelled or postponed due to unforeseen circumstances

Preparing to terminate subject: Static.

T Minus 48 hours and counting.

Initial hypothesis scheduled to be confirmed.

There is nothing left to say. The outside overwhelms the inside, but the inside overwhelms the first inside's intrinsic outside.

One.
There is only one.

Trod this path alone. Find in the secluded wing communal spectral silence.

Do not forget the silent communal haven haunted by area 25.

I have spoken...I have marked myself for execution. The seed is planted.

Either that, or nothing will happen- and the dark force will receive another victory- proving that I do not belong here.

I got one hour of sleep last night. That's being optimistic. Couldn't rid my mind of Ponymania, as I have dubbed it. No words can describe the dissonance within me.

I'm in a study room on campus. I have been studying for the American Government CLEP test. I feel sick now.

I reflect on the near-stream-of-consciousness poem I wrote last night. No, it was not entirely stream of consciousness. Those words were reflective of my feelings.

I don't want to get up. I don't want to see anybody anymore. People need not even look at me any more.

The world is cruel and dark. People don't change that. In futility, I get ready to get up and get in line, hoping to resolve a bloody out-of-state problem on my brother's tuition fee.

I don't want to go on any more. I'm tired of pulling myself up by my bootstraps ('Murika). I am tired of maintaining hope: hoping that tomorrow will be different.

"I don't feel like working any more. Is that ok?"

"...Smile smile smile, fill my heart up with sunshine, sunshine."

One cannot smile if he is devoid of hope. There is no light where there is darkness...stale, merciless silence.

Present the nocturne, the dead dawn.
Enter the thirty-third pixel.
Observe entropy.
And record your observations.

Diffusion never ends
Dissolution enters the zephyrs

Enter the network
Raise a shield
Then enter the field
And record your observations

Diminuendo, decrescendo.

Perhaps fire burns slower
When it is kindled in latent foreign neurons
Perhaps they were not
And with that, there is order

Dead equilibrium

These trichromatic Aeolean envoys
They never passed the threshold

REM, reveals rem
For we learned to speak
But we spoke not
For the words were neutralized by sodium

And then it was remembered
That grey light, bent
It was colorful

But nothing defeats order
For destiny reigns
And the destiny beneath the bridge
Lies two feet away from a stream
And with the stream and wayward sunlight
Tears, that liquid armor met the hellion, known as frequency-water
And years passed with the sound of transit
2:30 came.

For instance neutralized the outbound
And words fractured
To the sound of white noise
And impending alarm clock
And silent sobbing