Tune

Don't speak it of it, don't so much as breath it, think it. Expel all thoughts of it from your mind.

The thing about recalling something is that it concretes itself further every time you do.

Where do we stand? Earth ever moving ever changing. Let us all run ahead, exhausting ourselves before we die.

Broken things lay everywhere, splintered thoughts and erratic movements.

Look but don't see. Hear but don't listen. Talk but don't speak.

Fuzzy walls and hazy air, radiating light from everywhere. Sit still in the forest of light. Sit still lest you attract the beasts.

Some games are harder to win than others. Some games, the only way to win, is to do nothing.

It is quite alright I'm sure. There is nothing to worry about. Things can't get worse, not really. Not when you've never played.

Come, let us sit. Back to back, the stars are our audience. Like so many we twiddle our thumbs and wait for the game to end.

But it doesn't. We know it doesn't. Everyone knows it doesn't.

Stay still from playing long enough and you turn to stone. Yet another item for the garden of the world. That is all I ever expect to be.

Yet the unpredictability of the world has shown many a time that not everyone end up this way, despite their expectations.

I barely remember how to stand anymore. How to walk. How to so much as move. And it isn't often people would help you up.

The skies are a beautiful thing. It's always the same sky, but always so beautiful.

But I'm so tired of looking up.

It is time for me to sleep.

Noise

A snowy fuzz of black and white, repetition. Hypnotic almost.

Voices not escaping lips but sound is not unheard of when it is present.

But it's just so so quiet. So still. So silent.

Because even in a room full of mediocrity, eventually somebody gets good enough to win.

Mute

Silent the protests, the crowd of one. Its noise penetrating every chamber, every room. Can you not see its disturbance?

Army of one, tell me why do you resist? Why do you persist? Why can't you stay quiet for a while?

The death penalty is a silly sort of thing. For one as immortal as yourself at least. But do bear in mind, we would live just as long.

I am the judge and my words are absolute.

A voiceless noiseless speechless soundless prison. Gagged, choked full of your former glory. Drown in the misery you bring.

Time stretched across your body, your torment prolonged, yourself exasperated.

You know as well as I it is for the greater good. Stay where you are. Stay, silent.

Intent

Staining, it spreads, every fiber in clear view. Almost majestic, almost perfect.

Clocks ticking ticking ticking. Digital things are ever so boring sometimes lacking this ability.

White noise clouds of inseparable thoughts entwined spinning webs made of dreams.

Lights throb in an unforgiving fashion, headache inducing light, so bright, so pretty, so hurtful.

Claws don't hurt, they never do. They are sharp, they are strong, they are beautiful. Smile for me.

Cast a shadow across the fields. Echoes are unheard of here. There is nothing, nothing.

Fire fades muffled air a smoke screen kissing faces crying shedding tears.

Emptiness is silence and silence is brilliant. And silence, silence is boring.

Throwing away that which is unimportant. Laugh it all away. Until you laugh away laughter.

Because in the end, it's really not morbid, not even at the slightest. Just, plain.

Trails from the contents spilling over, the figure isn't far off, the box isn't damaged.