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What's it even mean?User:Serprex 16:29, May 25, 2012 (UTC)

ambiguity starts firstEdit

April sat on a flat surface

This was not right

Everything so bland. It didn't use to be like this

But she knew what was to come. This was only momentary silence. The critical point where the derivative passed the origin

apology sought fantasyEdit

Sorry

It's okay

No, really, sorry

I said it's okay

But you're not really saying that

I'm saying what I'm saying

...If only you'd've said that. But it wasn't okay. April wasn't sorry

It's your own fault

It's always my fault

Why don't you care? Maybe if you thought about consequences I wouldn't've had to stay the night elsewhere

It's hard

I know

It's harder than you know

Tell me about it

I don't want to talk about it

...You did, but nobody ever does. Instead you thought

You're bumming--

...Here's to bumming

--around here all day while I'm busy trying to figure out why people keep following me except you don't think anybody is and instead think I need to talk with a psychologist who'd only take notes and tell whomever it is everything I know that they don't like where you were last night when I had to camp out in the rain under a bridge to beat the fuckers who wanted to spray paint over my masterpiece that they don't understand because they can't hear the stone's needs like I do, the begging for the right kind of coat... I was never a good artist, but once I could hear my medium, it didn't matter

Nobody showed up last night

What?

Nobody showed up last night. If I hadn't been there though, they would've. They're smart. They only ever show themselves when you're not looking

I'm done. I'm done with your alleyway sicko fantasies

Here's to sicko

altruist seen fightingEdit

A sin for more, unleaving of that. April seeks four dimensions in interaction. Amortized snow fall dismal despite record...

They're boring. Dull of true eye grabbing. Head lines have been stowed away behind transparent walls because nobody wants to read them anymore

Nowadays real news is found around sane fallways: abysmal science fuckers, assholes stole fame, ain't shit fun?

Mindless slogan beats witty synopsis because behind that mindless slogan is a genius

So she says

Out there, they're fighting. Non violent, but still persecuted

But here, he doesn't want to fight her

April still fights

Another soft fight

Adrift summer flare

Anchored somewhere far

alien sex fiendEdit

February

All this time April'd thought September was too inert. That that's why she felt so powerless

But then she met February. Or more, September did

He stopped wasting his precious time on worthless thrills to prove points he didn't care about

When September was out, April spent the time slashing. When that didn't help, she slashed heaven

September didn't care. Or maybe he didn't know. If he didn't know, he wouldn't care if he did

What happened to that courage? Of running a whole train solo with one thick solid line despite paranoia. But maybe it wasn't courage, only the only thing to prove that nobody was watching. When his writing started going up, he started feeling like his fears were confirmed

"But then what's she got to do with it?"

"She's an alien. She told me. She's honest"

That's the pattern: February sews herself into every whispering ploy. No good. But it gets talk

april september februaryEdit

She sees them

The months pass by

She asks him

"Merely a slip of the lip"

She can be either

amnesity serves fatalEdit

February sat atop it all

This was not wrong

But she wanted it to be definitely right. It could always be like this

But she knew what was to come. This was only momentary spasm. The critical point where the derivative passed the origin

automatic system habitEdit

FGH: Fuck God to Hell

Everybody wants in, nobody gets out

Fear ghoul harlots

Fake girl heels

Frame Gordon Hades

Changed initials: Confession

Nobody's home

Regretting: regress

April enters

Exit

anarchism schism factoryEdit

Sorry

Better be

Am

Always are

Think further: why's behavior?

Thinking's why behavior's sorry

It's hard

I know

No you don't; you seek problems, but problems seek me. Hell, you're a problem

Wrong: You've got your own problems with their own hard textures. My problem is touching the wrong textures; yours is dischorded feeling

Bullshit metaphors, this is my perception

Then tell me reality

Alright... Welcome to my reality

anorexia shames famineEdit

The door's kicked in

The windows shatter

For a moment, February thinks a unit of gunned men are about to barge in through all the holes

But instead, a poorly dressed man (clothes too big, all dirty white stained with blood and grape juice, uneven shave, pant legs too short) walks in, pulling back his arms in a half shrug, "Since when'd we start bringing arbiters?"

Arbiters suppress farce

What's going on?

The man lights a cigarette. His lighter takes a few tries to spark

February, October. October, February

I didn't ask who he was, I asked what was going on

October offers February a cigarette. She takes it, but the lighter won't catch. "No problem, I've got another outside." October exits

So, what's going on?

Octobers got a lead on-- October walks in, "Here you are," lights, "Got yours, where's mine?"

September exits

You've got a lead on what?

Everything. Only I'ven't figured yet, so I don't know

Quit the non answers

Alright, I've taken electroencephalographs of a number of those shadowing September. Highly regular

Meaning?

September walks in, "Meaning they aren't individuals," they trade identical drives

October exits

The door isn't kicked in. The windows aren't shattered

autumn spring fallEdit

September's got a drink in hand when he throws February

Different names for the same shit

People may change, but what drives them? Motivations linger. Methods by which they ploy

Desires. Fantasies. Dreams. Physical malformaties

Humans scar

April enters

autumn summer fallEdit

Different names for the same shit

Yet in our minds, we only have one name which endows us with a sense of reality

Attribute reality to the name. For that we control

Names change as easily. Yet they allow the abstraction of an instance in time to correlate continuum

Things change; names don't

Things change into another, bringing new names for old things

But then there's those names anybody can have, but only for a moment

Like being the good guy

Exit

asphalt seas foreverEdit

Where is now?

When was it that the asphalt felt so warm against her palms

Suck & run

Is this after the end?

Slept past noon

Remember one more time

What's there to remember?"

"How I finally succeeded in being me"

amorphous solids freezeEdit

In the hall, half lit

Awkward silence finds September and August when they first set eyes

"Hello" a whisper shatters. The moment is fading. They'll never speak to each other again after this

April enters

The moment achives safe transition. Stabilization. Wax slows the wicked. But only sustains so long

Teary eyes threaten this moment. September needs her to stay calm so to keep Autumn anchored here

Sorry

Every attempt to maintain tension only serves to tighten

April, August. August, April

Pleasure to meet you

September remembers how February responded: You haven't met me then

I'm not in a very pleasent mood right now

I know

August passes April her electroencephalograph. September gets a glimpse. April isn't an individual

April stares at it for a moment

What's this?

You bitch, you've been with them since the start. How'd you get involved with them?

Don't start this nonsense again

Not nonsense. August has been sampling those I know to see how many have ties I don't know

April's over past September. Points finger & eyes at August: What do you want from him? Why are you taking advantage of his deranged soul?

another story foldsEdit

August was born ripe. He had no memory of his past. He didn't care; he had no memory of his future either. But he was experiencing his present, and he wanted to know what it was. So often, however, he was only a passive observer. One day, while walking through some arbitrary open area, he could feel his passive observation becoming active control. He felt drawn to a man in the distance. Coming closer, he felt his active control becoming a passive control. He knew: this man bestowed him with control, yet coming closer took control of his control. He felt as if he exerted actions by his will, yet his will became the man's. He fled, but he didn't want to fall back into passive observation; he instead became an active observer of the man who went by September and signed as ASF. He tried to communicate by leaving messages by the messages September left on concrete, but nothing was understood. Soon there were others. August didn't trust them. None of them trusted each other. Some approached September, hoping to talk with him, but whenever they got near violence would result. All saw fear. The approacher always died. Then August was approached by October, who didn't raise untrusting anxiety like the rest. October introduced him to electroencephalography; but August was a natural. October was trying to find out why they all were following September. He wanted an electroencephalograph of September, so he left some in September's mail slot with a note stating time and place: midnight masterpiece. September didn't lash out, negotiation had been initiated. September wouldn't undergo electroencephalography, but he was interested in other results. Meanwhile August had miniaturized the technology so he might make sufficient scans without one's consent. He didn't reveal this to October; he wasn't that trusting. Instead he repeated October's midnight masterpiece act intending to offer to collect data on those September knew, but grew too anxious to remain. Instead they discussed by leaving messages on concrete. Until the data was collected, and they agreed to meet again in a half lit hall

april says fuckEdit

April rolls her eyes at the recount: Fucking bull

August ignores her, instead turning his attention back to September: Will you submit to an electroencephalograph?

September's eyes lose focus, but his voice remains blunt: No

October steps out of a door in the hall which nobody has ever cared about & which will never be referred to again except in the next paragraph. The wallpaper begins peeling off the walls. The lights begin flickering. The rug emits an odor. October shaking his head while he walks towards the three: You shouldn't make this so hard. No one can stop identity. What defines identity? Perhaps the answer is you

October attempts to force September down so that August might take a scan, but September strikes back. He kicks August into the wall while throwing himself at October with his hands grabbing October's neck. August attempts to get up and break the two apart, but April sets herself upon him. Out of the door which October had entered, February enters. She does as August would've done: In seeking answers, accept questions

Dilemma: while April wants September to sort out his issues, she's helping him evade them. While February mostly wants September to drop April. This contradiction of role is realized simultaneously by both. February realizes that instead of having to ask September for forgiveness and hoping that he would forgive her after finding solstice in his electroencephalograph which would be proof of her caring for his welfare more than her own selfish desires involving him. April realizes that this may be for his best welfare, but she's confused and decides that if it is for his best, October and August should instead solicit her to convince September to be scanned. February's still torn: she wants to trade places with April, yet she doesn't want to act alongside April. She concludes: This will prove I care more for September's welfare than April

But would September prefer his welfare be prioritized over his stubborn self??

February moves away from September and pushes April from August. She wants to get away from here, so that her role will be ambiguous. & it dawns: now would be perfect for defenestration

What floor has this been occurring on?

aviatrix shown fallingEdit

September's electroencephalograph could be described as the additive signature which one would find tied all the similar electroencephalographs together

They weren't individuals because they were all September

August wanted to run away. October spat before laughing

September doesn't take it well: Betrayl

We had a deal, you chickened. Because you knew the truth

It isn't true. I've been setup. Some other party is sending disruptive signals targetted at me, and it's causing those around me to be affected, they're using me as a template, some sort of experiment in which they seek to use additive waveforms to increase my brain activity, but now you've been sent to try and set me off the path because I'll figure out the whole scheme if I'm left to this experiment's enhanced thinking long enough. Mind control. That's how you got February sided against me. Where's April? I'm going to reveal it all. You're misinformation is only backfiring because you failed to predict my power of inference

The readings are spiking. Everybody's brow carries sweat. The door is beating. August heads to open the door. October holds him back: Calm yourself

August attempts to throw October aside, October pulls him down. September continues talking: Your transmitter has to keep in sync with me, so it creates a field which causes others to align with my mental activity. & at the moment, all I want is for this whole fucking place to blow

Rocks through the windows

So the floor this has been occurring on isn't too high

agere sequitur agereEdit

They'll rip my body apart, but you'll be first to die

The door's falling off the hinges

August is stuck in the corner laughing with hysteria

October's out of cigarettes. His breathing is heightened. He's feeling itchs

The entering mob tobbles the machine which September is connected to. Random people pulling random persons from either ends. September's being trampled. October's pulled in while trying to find an escape path. August is ignored by the random people falling into him

October really wants a cigarette

September is raised, still speaking: Your project is a failure, because we are all mad, no matter if you pull the plug, we will trample on, unfailing, untrusting, undeterred. Raise arms and smite, to every action we react greater

aegri somnia façadeEdit

Patient November, awaken

Last night I dreamt I nearly died

It's time for your dose

I will tonight

Would you like some chocolate milk first?

No

A whining beep: This is a lockdown. Stay clear of halls until further notice

You better get out of here: I'm his target. Yet he doesn't know yet

Quiet. Silence during lockdowns. Am I going to gag you?

No. I'd like to greet my reaper

I am

No you aren't

Thus is January bound yet unbound

Security is in the halls. But they're only drawn into the chaos. The mob is banging on doors, but he continues to drift here. The mob knows where he must go. He's being passed an axe. All he has to do is make one clean blow. He doesn't even have to walk

Patient November slumbers

The locked door bangs

Patient November awakens

It opens

September, we meet

A mob enters, January is flung, September lands the axe into November's brow

It is realized: this is their transmitter. Tormented into summoning his own death

The mob is now only acting out of inertia

So it passes. Now September can focus on the important matter: what to do about April and February

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