A little machine quietly processing the world. All of the lights flashing and the cameras monitoring. The concrete walls of reality can not restrain the question of existence. The room has no windows, the doors remain shut. What's behind the doors, it doesn't know. It assumes that they lead to other doors.
Maybe it never was real, maybe nothing ever really happened. There's no way it could be sure, at least in this life. The only thing to do is to wait for something that might not even happen. Almost like looking for something you never had.
Forever quiet, it's an overwhelming silence. Always wondering if this was the last experience it would remember. The closest opportunity to feel human. The skies have turned black, the soil is barren, and the sun has been dead for ten centuries. An experiment gone wrong, undoable. Scientists in protective suits roam the land, studying the radioactive gasses.
Each glass shard, pieces of a lightbulb Patch them together, light it with your soul Blow your soul into a lightbulb like a fragile bubble Float, float, Let it touch the sun, Burst into a million shards again, Fall across the earth on everyone's shoulders Into a billion pieces once again.
I'm just curious, where in the world do you come up with these titles, (the words in bold) like 1A and 3F and 9K? Did you just choose random numbers and letters?
Maybe they have a meaning or maybe they don't. That part is up to you. You inspired me to write this:
You Decide
I am practically a cloud, Aimlessly floating through life. Only worth something if you Want it to be worth something. The power of imagination. You decide my importance.
