So my life just gets more and more interesting with each passing second. No amount of fiction could ever compare to truth. We know it's there and we can prove it, however we can never actually see or hear it. But I can feel it! So dark it leaves me pale and of shallow breath.
The pumps and pipes frozen within an infinite second.
I can feel its gaze upon my guilt, together in a fresh baked room, bathed with its absence of light. If he had a face his eyes would be solid and black, unmoving, focused. And what bothers me more is that he'd be smiling. Such an awful grin.
My shadow. He hides in others but now I feel when I stare into the mirror, those eyes aren't my own.
What if the mouse knew the cheddar trap, and yet continued to fall victim to it? I'm hoping she wouldn't be able to control herself. Because if she can, I'll never allow myself to feel that any of our progress will ever matter. I want to believe that our programming can be halted and overwritten.
But alas! Here I am yet another lonely night in the Brave New World we all wanted and paid for after our parents finally kicked the bucket. Then my shame arrived. Was there ever supposed to be a cap to the madness, the plateau of progress, the highest reaches of success? What was our endgame? I've cheated the system, or so I thought?
And so I'm left with this. The muffled, faint chatter and laughter behind me still warm inside where the party continues unmoved. The cold air rushes upwards from the side of the building and I'll feel it lift me up and tense me up, making the current environment uninhabitable. Was it ever really a healthy place to see?
I wait on the bench amongst the fallen angels, their blackened wings covering my tears.
And oh do they flow. So very freely they flow...
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