a routine anew
not the evenings, but mornings. a sun for soft kisses, tea and light. to shine on our words. inventing worlds. to validate the singing birds. the moon hides so that writers… can write. This Is…
you’re the science, i’m the glue setting between the folds of a ventricle-less heart . i don’t understand your logic, you don’t understand my reason, yet we remain neighbors. our sons and daughters playing under the stars in the open fields that were once ours alone. …How Communities Are Born. (inspired by the thought that a broken heart bleeds out love, so why be sad.) it’s become a new drowning without water.
looking up seeing only what sits below. the heart still knows to dream. inhaling autumn, the sound moon under a still sun. in breathe, my eyes become yours seeing only what floats above. Anna had five electrodes implanted throughout different parts of her brain. Each electrode emitting a particular frequency affecting certain aspects of her being; movement, emotion, reasoning, judgment, her sensory signals, even her appetite.
At seven years old, the random noises in her head and doctor visits were a normal part of her life. This was the usual routine for any person displaying “abnormal” characteristics, in this new world. It made life easier, peaceful and happy; for everyone. However, At twenty years old Anna realized something that hadn’t yet been discovered by any doctors or scientists. At least not made public. There was something surreal about her memory. Her hippocampus had been virtually unaffected; untouched by the radio frequencies. Not only did she posses a hyperthymistic and ultra-eidetic memory, but she was also experiencing the memory of her parents, friends and neighbors. The memories of her classmates and complete strangers. Experiencing them as her own. This had been going on for twenty years. Strangely, she has never been able to recollect the time between her birth and her third birthday. As she unravels herself through a series of events, her life becomes hard, sad, and torn. Anna suddenly finds purpose. Her story begins at three years old. Her life begins at twenty. (this is a brief introduction, to a short story to be published soon.) The fact is; existence is just varying degrees of sadness. Happiness is the balance played out as small dream states that keep us alive.
So start dreaming. |
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January 2019
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