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literature

Flatliners

arctoa's avatar
By arctoa   |   Watch
6 5 3K (1 Today)
Published: January 23, 2010
Morning bell:
a novae chime
paradigm
hammerblow
to tension-head
gravity-well

Temples

That collapse
in chaos
toward zero-point
data-loss paradox
pulled
far beyond
Event Horizon

Flatline____________________________
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c
compulsive liar.
once i asked you your favourite colour, and you said, "the brown of your eyes," so i put in one green contact and told everyone that i came out of the womb as a factory defect, half-priced, damaged goods. - sometimes i am from canada and sometimes i am from england and sometimes i am from spain. i've carefully tempered my accents and plotted out my stories with yellow and purple coloured pencils on index cards. my origin changes like the seasons. "why do you lie to everyone?" you ask. "why not?" i reply. - i wear nametags that read "alicia" and "liana" and "samantha," because i want to know how it feels to be someon
a
absences
but this isn't just distance as in space, not just distance as in whispers of, "i can't believe how far you are from me, i miss you" - this isn't just distance in the way that roads seem to spill over hilltops for years, stretching like skin across knuckles but never ending,   no. this is the kind of distance that isn't seen but instead felt, that isn't marked by miles or gas money and can't be pinned in two spots on a map with red thumbtacks: this is not hearing from you for days and knowing you haven't noticed. this is wanting to have you beside me and knowing you're just fine   alone. this is the kind of dist
a
a tongue of tea leaves
she has spoken with a tongue of tea leaves the autumn pied piper                 across discarded beer bottles plays to the phantoms of summer the wind, her dusky eyes a twinge to her rouged lips rouge, and ragged                her nail polish sparkles                little asteroids glitter like Orion's belt she has three places, out of time three droplets of crystal the crystalline she, with her tongue of fortunes the divine, prediction, prey and predator she's counting courtship flowers the tolling bells               among absinthe and aromatic rings               the nettle and bee stings so that between chances
© 2010 - 2019 arctoa
Updated: 23/01/2010 @ 07:34
Project2010: 031 of 375 (January 21st)



Black-holes and brain-death in catatonic apathy and insomnia. We are very probably emotionally flat-lined and have been for quite some time.

Apologies for the delay in uploading, curiously this has occurred when I have spent time exclusively at home in front of my own computer. Work that one out.
Recommended Literature
c
compulsive liar.
once i asked you your favourite colour, and you said, "the brown of your eyes," so i put in one green contact and told everyone that i came out of the womb as a factory defect, half-priced, damaged goods. - sometimes i am from canada and sometimes i am from england and sometimes i am from spain. i've carefully tempered my accents and plotted out my stories with yellow and purple coloured pencils on index cards. my origin changes like the seasons. "why do you lie to everyone?" you ask. "why not?" i reply. - i wear nametags that read "alicia" and "liana" and "samantha," because i want to know how it feels to be someon
a
absences
but this isn't just distance as in space, not just distance as in whispers of, "i can't believe how far you are from me, i miss you" - this isn't just distance in the way that roads seem to spill over hilltops for years, stretching like skin across knuckles but never ending,   no. this is the kind of distance that isn't seen but instead felt, that isn't marked by miles or gas money and can't be pinned in two spots on a map with red thumbtacks: this is not hearing from you for days and knowing you haven't noticed. this is wanting to have you beside me and knowing you're just fine   alone. this is the kind of dist
a
a tongue of tea leaves
she has spoken with a tongue of tea leaves the autumn pied piper                 across discarded beer bottles plays to the phantoms of summer the wind, her dusky eyes a twinge to her rouged lips rouge, and ragged                her nail polish sparkles                little asteroids glitter like Orion's belt she has three places, out of time three droplets of crystal the crystalline she, with her tongue of fortunes the divine, prediction, prey and predator she's counting courtship flowers the tolling bells               among absinthe and aromatic rings               the nettle and bee stings so that between chances
Comments5
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arctoa's avatar
arctoaStudent Photographer
Thank-you kindly for featuring my work; particularly a literary piece.
Enigmapsyche's avatar
EnigmapsycheHobbyist Traditional Artist
no worries ^ ^
Negated's avatar
have you ever seen/read the play 4.48 Psychosis? this kind of reminds me of it, you might like it (:
arctoa's avatar
arctoaStudent Photographer
Nope; I'll have to check it out at some point.
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