I want to hear the lies you tell yourself that keep yourself from unraveling, coming unglued, bursting at the seams, the shrouds of artifice you asphyxiate yourself in for survival. I want to hear what THE FUCK you think is going on here, RIGHT NOW, in this malleable, nonsensical plane. I want to know if you notice things, and how you are making sense of the fact that reality gets more synchronized with every passing iteration. I want to know if you feel like your external reality is mirroring your inner condition, and if it makes you feel sick to look it directly in the eye. I want to hear the lies you tell yourself that keep a mind that has been stretched by new experiences waning backwards to old dimensions. Which parts of you fester with inattention?
How bored can you possibly be?