What's it even mean?User:Serprex 16:29, May 25, 2012 (UTC)
ambiguity starts first[]
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 fantasy[]
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 fighting[]
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 fiend[]
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 february[]
She sees them
The months pass by
She asks him
"Merely a slip of the lip"
She can be either
amnesity serves fatal[]
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 habit[]
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 factory[]
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 famine[]
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 fall[]
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 fall[]
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 forever[]
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 freeze[]
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 folds[]
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 fuck[]
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 falling[]
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 agere[]
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 façade[]
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