‘Is that wilderness that I see inside the room!’
When she said it, I couldn’t believe what she said. Well, she didn’t say it. How shall I put it? Let me say when she said what she said she didn’t say it outright. She expressed it so subtly as one would draw a gesture while still being oblivious to what’s being expressed and as one would drop a slip of tongue. But I didn’t believe in that which made itself obvious in my unconscious until the unseen thorny shrubs inside her could be seen on the outside.
She swears this wilderness isn’t hers. That’s unbelievable. There’s truth to her word and in that word there as well is this thorny wilderness. This wilderness isn't mine either.
Wilderness! Where? What wilderness?
It’s so full of riddles and shrubs in this exposed wilderness I cannot ascertain the scores of shrubs that must belong to me. Is this wilderness ours? Not hers and not mine but rather ours perhaps.
Would these thorns pierce our toddler’s feet? Wouldn’t fencing it with thorn bush trees make the situation much worse?
So intense is the squeal of the baby palm squirrel.
‘Wait what!’ she says, ‘Is that a bat flying inside the living room?’
If you’re sick I’m ham. You’re not about forgetfulness and I’m not forgiveness. If you’re sickle I'm curve. We come from a family of unemployment.
The vempire ship from beyond horizon — now mere skeleton — suspended in a wide half-metal space spider web. Capable of empathy only toward dinosaurs the vempires made of eyce melt in the heat this side of the horizon. What we call obscene they hold as law and we’re not our rulers that mourn as they make pretty projectiles smoothing melting vempires. The thick gray smoke settling in the cavernous vempire ship is people with memories.
Your hyenas, we’d rather mourn the passing of a Duck than a duke. Hyenas are never as heinous so pardon us.
Why address your horrendous as horrendous, your heinous, when we all already know that your horrendous is horrendous — your horrendous committing heinous acts and your heinous committing horrendous acts being the norm since time immemorial would it not be apt for a change to call your horrendous your national heinous and your heinous your international horrendous.
Out of all existing beings it’s perhaps humans who possess the ability to realize the truth that existence is empty, devoid of meaning, and they feel it all the time, but being in denial they’ve filled the void with outrageous constructs most of which are outright dangerous to self and others.
Consuming nonrandom content can only keep me content, says without saying the person in pursuit of purpose.
The head of state tends to be heartless since the heart tends to attack. The buried heart—having dangling aortas for antennas—still beating claws its way out of the grave to the head but it turns out the head of state is multi-headed. How can a single heart attack and arrest multiple heads so obviously the heart too turns to multiple hearts. Seeing these heads unexpectedly turn back to a single head as the hearts then couldn’t prepare the precise heart to attack. The hearts then turn to a single heart too and upon seeing this the head predictably turns to multiple heads. The fabled social animal is likely not a single human but all social animals in a single humanimal dragging down and out in all directions. Now single, now multiple depending on the state of head of state the heart cries ‘We are unclear,’ as it crouches back to the cradle.
Why’d you want to step into the shoes of another, asks Nowon. Perhaps one pair is all the oppressed have got and why don’t you having several already grow another pair instead and fuck right off to your prerogatives, they reasons on: Narrative storytelling remains a tool of the oppressor and by the time it becomes one in the hands of the oppressed, and the oppressor learns to listen and unlearn, the world would be reduced to ashes. Empathy, like so-called merit, eludes you. What we seek and need is equity, and right now, not the empathy of the fragile oppressor nurtured to feign innocence.
Particles are just like me, purposeless and short-lived, but you seek to make meaning out of our absurd existence.
Everything lacks essence including matter and energy. Essence doesn’t exist but everything does. How can anything lack something that doesn’t exist. Nothing lacks anything. This or that essence, though, can be constructed and deconstructed. We exist therefore we exist.
There wouldn’t be deconstructs in the absence of constructs and if deconstructs lack essence it isn’t because deconstructs lack essence but because constructs lack essence in the first place.
In the seemingly empty anteroom a drizzle of aimless weakly interacting slender particles. We need time to change and we have no time. Just like stars antistars too are full of gas or what, drr-rr brr-rr being the so-called primal sound of the universe and the horror the horror of what seems beauteous.
A leaf is partly wet from rain. Barbarism churns out many social constructs that are rather antisocial constructs and spawns deconstructs and so does neo-barbarism. To say all leaves are evenly wet is to misconstrue. Representational narrative deconstructs are constructs too. A dragonfly is expressive and we’re affectless.
If we require deconstructs or constructs to regard an individual or a group of people equal as human then, librarian, are we not being barbaric? Let’s not superimpose ‘We are’ yet because being affectless, I construe, is expressive too. One must deconstruct constructs and reconstrue, well, I donno.
I’m unsure if my feasting on biriani the other day had something to do with it but I likely chanced upon this thought waking up from an uneventful two-day sleep. If we’re gone, mating mid-flight eating mosquitoes, that just me—. This is this is maybe why it’s better to be an insomniac.
Ahimaz Ponrasa (a.k.a Rajessh, @ahimaaz) has been published recently with Feral Poetry, The Babel Tower Notice Board, Blood Orange, Fever Dream, Giallo, Drunk Monkeys, Nymphs, TERSE. Journal, Jellyfish Review, Burning House Press, BEST BUDS! Collective, RIC Journal and Minor Literature[s]. He lives in the Union of India.
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