they say when you see 11:11 you are exactly where you are supposed to be
it is a sign you are going the right way
everyday i catch it at least once and where i am is not where i need to be
listen to me, i am not supposed to be here, this is not the place for me
how can this be the right place for anyone, you all see what it is like here, you hear the voices, you hear them, right
the never ending wails of the disenfranchised, automatons, incapable and numb, the haunting chorus of the dead end that is suddenly everything and the only palpable flavor on this snow cone
shaved ice and genitals, a craving, an impossible miniature gargantuan horde, swarming and seizing all
11:11
listening to converge
shutting down the non essential functions, fuck murder destroy protocol enabled
duress, durex, trojan horses and needle holes in the prophylactic
antibiotic ointments and granules of synthetic biological deterrents
detergents, cleanse the epitome of this quark influenced psychosis
prone, paralyzed and pleading
needs more salt
how did we get here, i swore not to write today, to let the words fall silent of their own accord
exactly where i am supposed to be
on and on it goes, where it stops no one noticed
like a parasitic fish cleaning the teeth of a shark, a bird on a rhino head pecking the insects
living large on someone else’s accomplishments
a tick, an ingrown hair, a pus filled nodule on the glands of something more, amazing, pure light
been pursuing this circular line of logic for far too long, 11:11, exactly where it is supposed to be, a perfect circle can only be produced in nature
i am the rhombus, the tetrahedron, a nonogon, refracted through a prism of quartz and projected on the tail of a comet
exactly where i need to be and lost like a babe in the woods
internal compass set to true northsouth by eastwest, spinning lazily and always finding 11:11
the wildlife freezes in place as my vision finds black and white
freshly anointed with oils and perfumes, shaven and cleansed, wrapped in white linen and set lightly into the sarcophagus
exactly where we are supposed to be
but where is that exactly, exacting a steady cost, cutting holes in the fabric of reality, realizing it is really holes in the wholesome fluff that makes up us
11:11
i just want to go home
Oh man. Totally.
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☹️ *hug* (Awesome Lauren gives awesome hugs.)
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It’s in the name after all
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Not feeling Kentucky, huh?
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Not so much Kentucky. Just everything else.
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