deus ex machina
sometimes i wonder if it is wrong to hate the capitulated. those who give themselves up uncritically to the race to be superhuman. to be the idols groped by the multitude.
but refractions after refractions, i found myself. or at least where roughly i stood. and the reflection is a hater. or is it a more a refraction, i wandered in wonder.
these little pockets of epiphanies could be painful alleys to walk. each step of the way, the floor whereupon my feet touches briefly asks me the same question repeatedly: “what am i doing here?” the continuous violence on the volition is joined by the innocuous “and” … and what now?
every step along the way, the metaphor hardens. it ossifies into a superhuman. or at least the body of one. and then finally, i tore the body apart.
and i wonder, what now?
i googled, but i couldn’t find an answer.
