A Fly in Charlotte

Published on February 2017 | Categories: Documents | Downloads: 57 | Comments: 0 | Views: 416
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A FlyIn Charlotte·s Web
We're here. We always have been.
Q: Punishment? A: What for? No. We're no prisoners Our predicament, not consequential to ill-judgement, or miscalculation in flight-path; Not a product of momentary lapses in environmental awareness, or sins against a hierarchal celestiat. This is the nature of matter's own connectivity, it's conscious-less preservation of perpetual inertia, present at and on all levels. Not... Gravity, per se; That's too small a fiber - but one echo of the radiating collisions, permeating from ancestral events in a netting of pseudo-historical chainlink. Therein exists a mosaic, each pixel a framed snapshot of the flawless pristinity it becomes a piece of. Distorted - slightly: a uniquity in its possession distinguishing it from its fellow brethren. To study just one is to disregard all but the solidarity of a single vacant estate in Sudoku's elusive grid-work; Grid-work that our minds so desperately search for in the morning's deliverance, so casually - and with monstrous, guilt-free ease - tattooed over the novel encased within a stationary's (perhaps many a stationaries') carcass(es). Following the severance of Dawn's bittersweet embrace, engaged in the reading materials of our choosing, we begin to relapse back into the lines and numbers, residual grains of yet another cultivated casualty of co-existence's cruelty, re-enacting Pinocchio's most tragic and overwhelming of plights (them the lead, we the whale, though no redemption but digestion will end their tale). This transcendence over the white-picket teeth, who've been charged with the trying task of segregating theory's yoke and the whites of the physical, is a principal of existence itself. One may sit, lacking the subtlessness of company kept, a tobacco totem jutting from it's orifice of design, the dancing imps of combustion awakening the untapped function as chimney's antonym, and find himself reminded of the tugging, the weight of slacked cables striving ever-so restlessly to be united with the gargantuan eye void of all sight, molten pupil buried a constant radial distance from glorious, yet profoundly terrifying, release. A marionette, whose formless master consists of its own puppet-colleagues See: Submissive dominatrices For all intents and purposes, this nameless complexity of action-reaction, our universe's establishment of gyroscopic mechanics - the absence of any and all prejudice towards particular orientations of matter-state among the most notable of its defining characteristics - shall be henceforth, in the context of this text that projects the hope that you're vexxed, be referred to as:

Metaphysique(n.)

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