i'm entirely sure that you are right. but that's a set of different words for a different space in time. instead, the light focuses on affliction. standing there behind a wooden tree, one wonders if affliction is playing the part or just a bit shy. "i see you." it blushes. it leaps. it devours. me whole.
on the right side of the stage is madness. if madness could hide it would be veneered slightly by a drape of darkness. inconceivably iridescent. the impossibility of averting your eyes is only achieved when you are being gouged. madness watches as affliction feasts. with a grin. it transforms.
and so do we.
to the second person.
or not.
returning to reality for a moment, i notice that there is far too much organization in this room. far too little poison in my body. and far too persistent a throwing motion in my arm for the firsbees to just lie on the ground. i correct all of these anti-anomalous actualities in one feel swoop. the power of a frisbee and a cartwheel. each time i destroy myself and destroy my surroundings is an opportunity to rebuild. for whatever reason though, i put everything back exactly where it was. it's as if nothing ever changes.
and so do we.
to the second person.
or...
the third person, or fourth person depending on how long we've been doing this for. think about that for a second. i figure it was sometime this year actually that i changed from who i was before to who i am now. but prior to that, my memory was abducted by disrememberence, discontinued in favor of a newer, cheaper model that is slightly less fuel efficient. each of my thoughts are new, perspective makes them so. these words i type are certainly convoluted, transfered from my mind through my fingertips into plastic blocks adorned by letters and travelling a tiny wire into a board with flashing lights and then somehow impressed upon a window that overlooks an entire macrocosm, eventually accepted by your eyes and processed by your brain. but they're new. and so are you. a second person, each one sprouting within itself.
