It is rather remarkable the brain's ability to not feel, I have spent many an hour contemplating this abstract grey numb slab, this meaty blossoming. Almost smug in its lofty position. And yet through this lacking, this absence of sensation is created the most profound ability TO FEEL.
My heart lurches, the mind thinks. Secreting these thoughts to ooze like bile. Stretched out for science to examine. But what does science see, when it casts its gaze upon me?
Personified and peering through lenses, are they shades of grey as my pre dawn or startling static blacks and whites progressing through my ambiguity to cold functionality? The future, it is streamlined and gleaming. This is the promise,
though I see nothing which clarifies this position, only more subjection.
You, just like the universe, are in a constant transient state. There are no static black and whites, and no matter how much one examines something or someone, the future is never streamlined nor promised. This constant transient state makes clarification impossible. The only thing one can possibly hope to find is more subjection.
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