The violin strings have snapped. Audio burst… silence burst. The caterwaul slams into silence. Madness is irreparable. The wheel turns one full cycle. Back to position zero-A-B-C all the way to S. Life is a eunuch. She-he lurches and lunges, leering, pleading, palms outstretched, exploited, dressed in contempt, cackling at us, the so-called normal. He-she wants to suck the most out of you.
Frost sighs does he? Did he stamp you with authenticity? What messed up nouveau intelligentsia shares peas for brains? Why wouldn't you eat your prized possession instead?
The deja woos all around. Reality is an indignant construct. As indignant as an overwhelming god. The wee bee buzzes around in my head… driving me insane. Sacrifice and compromise, compromise and sacrifice. I have forgotten who I really am, what I was meant to be. Memory swirls around the latitudinal addresses of the possibilities, trying to zone in on the destination. That too has vanished. The twitching radars will twitch and torture themselves, incomprehensive, clouded and endless.
Ashes don't turn into phoenixes. Ashes remain one with the muck, until swept away into oblivion, forgotten, uncared for, uncaring and stained with the dirt of someone else's mistakes. Mistakes are forever… nothing else counts. The violence can never play again.