Monitor

I watch the chaos. Apoplectic ballerinas in razorblade tutus, performing a slamdance of crimson and maroon spurts. It disgusts me and amuses me and confuses me all at once. My head spins. My days crash onto the coast of a distant land, swept away from me and beached on some nameless shore where they are left to slowly die and dry and crumble. Nothing more than bleached ex-organic remnants, tally marks on a sandy border between the solid ground of fulfillment and light and the inky depths of emptiness and despair.

I see the inequity. But it remains discounted and appears to be unable to make any change or sway any affect out of a complacent mode. The inability of it to breach the barrier means it cannot scramble the cowardly yellow center and serve it up for some fleeting yet altruistic gluttonous maw posing as a purpose that is more than willing to consume the faulty feast down to the last warm morsel.

I fuel the disfunction by my inaction. Entropy is always served better by inaction than action. Things are naturally predisposed to come apart by the seams. By the atoms. It is as if the grand design has put little dashed "cut here" marks around our souls to make sure the Grim Snipper has an easy job taking his Fiskars around the edges. The more things change the more they stay the same. That is to say, we all move towards what we really are.

I convince myself I am powerless against it all. There can be no other conclusion. The vast expanses of the black and the gray. They overwhelm me and force me to look away. Unable to grasp their design or discern their objectives it is imperative to blank out memories and narrow the vision to a sane perspective.

I live the lie. It is a lie of omission. It is a lie of necessity.

I am but a miscarried monitor to the molecular mayhem.

I watch.

I see.

I decay.