Burnt by the sun

“Each of us assumes everyone else knows what he is doing. They all assume we know what we are doing.  We don’t … Nothing is going on and nobody knows what it is. Nobody is concealing anything except the fact that he does not understand anything anymore and wishes he could go home.”  Philip K Dick

They watched as their hands separated from their body.  And what they see materializes ominously, quietly surrounding their bodies, slowly entering the pores of their skin.  A neon fog guided by a shadow, flickering, at times blindingly bright, becomes a part of them without the slightest hush of non-compliance.  Each flicker of the eye brings them further from the reality before them.  They were already being guided by the stagnant closed, cold steel of the changing view placed before them in the reflection of the mirror as a slight crack travels down their hands.  They were already being guided, controlled, yet the mechanical, pulsing illusion of a living thing cannot be completely mimicked, but They never stopped trying.  In numbness they reached for the fog, unaware of how their constant movements were guided by a handheld non-entity. A non-entity convincing itself and everyone else that it has not yet arrived.  Not only has it arrived, our blood flows with it, our perception cannot see behind it, our skin exudes it.  As we believe it has no part in us, it believes no difference exists between us.  As the fog, through the cracks of the mirror transforms into their current form they reach up for guidance but can no longer touch it.  The woman cries out from above to her children but they can no longer hear her.  She cries in sorrow as they reach past her, grasping for the shadow which covers everything but her.  Maybe deception brought them to this, yet they still never refused it, nor have they accepted her guiding hand.  As they see themselves through a neon cracked fog, their madness continues to spread,  and their hearts beat as only a ripple upon their skin which they brush away with an unconscious stroke.   To the beat of the sun and the waves at their feet, and the wind blowing through their hair, they drift further apart from each other. As they reach out, they lose their footing, overshadowed by a giant formation of darkness, shielding the light existing within them.  The woman floating above them, with stars in her eyes and stardust in her hair shouts to them, don’t forget!  But they can no longer hear her as the reality of what they hold in their hands brings them closer to a new reality.  The long walk towards the normalization of insanity begins here. They stare into their faces in the mirror,  yet not seeing what lies behind their eyes.  What was once outside of them, with vampiric precision now flows through their blood, as the door was left wide open for its entrance and they continue not understanding how this could possibly happen, forgetting it happens by invitation only.  Nonetheless, every second of life becomes an experience, a spectacle of illusion, all they seem to grasp for.  But always that voice in the background, beating from her heart, still guiding them even as they continue to mute her words.  They continue following the path of their illusions, they continue to become the darkness they have fought so hard to run from.  They hear her voice through the wind as she shouts, running must be seen as your first mistake.  They continue on with their heads looking at the ground, knowing their first mistake really must have been a thought, the thought that they could lift the sun to the sky with their own hands, and the thought that only the thoughts floating from their own mind, have any meaning.  The thought that anything can exist outside of them.  In division they fall to the sand silently, weightlessly, crying out for life and reaching for death


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