Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Tunnel from the back of the eye

Uniforms stand to hawk wares in crowded aisles. "These feet are not common. They make walking a massage." The small child stands, continuing to stare, not fear, not happiness, just misunderstanding, misunderstanding and disinterest. The broken eye looks on with only the mildest if care as they all try to ferret out the truth with their fingers. I will tell you a secret. "It is all fake." But this must be said in a whisper so as not to cause a panic. The banks may be rushed as they all learn it was only ever for playing games.
Hills roll by me again with greater speed but less satisfaction. I miss tasting my scenery. I don't want to, but that should make it simpler, but so much less satisfying.
Bang baby, only ever bang.
A blue light will find us what is true in a moment. Don't tell Socrates he may think the hemlock no worth it. But despite so much truth being being shouted in your ear, all the secrets to finding it being let out, a house, small and mud still sits by the lake. only fields around it cards falling down, but they cannot touch its calm or disturb its surface.
People around all have the truth, no need to worry. guess I'm the only one left to watch the walls wiggle.

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