Log IV: Swarm

Criticism flows in from all directions,

but is directionless.

The swarm moves like

a nitrogen bubble waiting to be popped

(tailing the pressure gradient

created by the presence of a will)

So that the collective conscious

can let out a sigh of relief

At the creaking sound of bones being broken

In the most illusory fashion possible.

But where there should be broken bones

We see fully formed skeletons sliding

across the ground, following a dead man

being stripped of his skins and his flesh

noiselessly, so that he might enjoy

the moment of his death

the hour of his awakening

when his eyes shall close

and his mind shall escape

transforming into the bubble popping pin

piercing the fictional film, the camera lens

shatters and the lights go out


the wall cracks, reality seeps in

dissolving these nightmarish constructs

and everything is clear and dark as the ocean

and A finally equals B

the end, as prophesied

is perfect homogeneity.


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