Don’t hope
      Tell yourself it’ll be okay
      Convince yourself ||
      Don’t hope … Tell yourself it’ll be okay … Convince yourself||

Don’t hope, Tell yourself it’ll all be okay; convince yourself that nothing can happen;══

      a waveform is effectively limited by its duration as it has an average value of zero and a nonzero norm.

Don’t hope. Convince yourself it’ll be okay. Tell yourself

                  nothing can happen
                        nothing cannot not happen

She stares out into the darkness. Unease washes over her.
      Buzzes permeate the night. Mann. Machine. Mann. Machine. What are they, even? Odd … so unabashedly odd. What isn’t even a thing? “Thang. Damn,” buzzes of distant voices Martius out of sync with the zzzzzz-ing of machine. (փzփzփzփzփz, not zee-zee-zee-zee-zee). The buzz of crickets though
      now that
      that is the buzz of the mind.
      Mind you: that’s only what Meraki feels.
                                             (it comes)
                                             (it goes)
                                             (this premourning)
                                             (this angst)

She’s sitting between two worlds. Her ass placed stubbornly on the balcony railing. One fall and she’ll feel alive. One..
The inside radiates death, the other side assimilates into death.

Laplace holds her heart, transforming out the ugliness into more complexities. That demon. He’s to blame.

Too many transformations. Too much information to take in.
                                          the smell of smoke is unwelcomed
(persona en same vain        ¦
persona poisoning vein     ¦
persona acting in vain       ¦
persona que’ll also get needles in their vein,                      ¦
persona die ist prayin to Fourier t’ uphold the deal          ¦
that there’s just the right mix of sin in the ECG)               ¦

however       ǂ       misocapnist:       “no comment”

҈

The thrumming consumes her mind. Waves. It’s waᵥ ͮ ᵥ ͮ ᵥ ͮ ᵥ ͮ ᵥing. Her. Her body. The tears in her eyes. The thrum. Moving cosinusoidally with everything. Everything is a wavelength toolong to have any resonant frequency in the soul.

She’s not able to do. She’s not able to let go and submerge herself to the greater tides of the world. She’s ʬavering.

            And why should she submit, I ask you this.

What ungodly hour is it, you ask back. Whatever it is, she finds solace in it. It’s the only time where her mind’s at ease. Her soul placid. No, it ain’t the cold atmosphere, or the atmospheric sadness in the industrial sky, where the only stars are lampposts and the rivers are 16-laned highways, now empty—none of those comfort her in the night. Nor the isolation provided by night. ҂҂, for that sensation too is a lie. Notice. Notice, damn it. If one were to look hard enough one would realise that one was not one, that there was infact many who opposed the falling of the sun, who stood high as Luna herself. But there was something special about night-people, she realised: they were removed in manner and disposition from day-walkers. The ones with dominion of the night ||her typa people|| they all acted like they were dead. Not one acknowledged each other; nor was there any shame. They would sit in gardens, or balconies, or open-curtained rooms, where all could see you and you could see all. And yet no one called out to her ever, nor she anyone. They saw, they acknowledged; they did not care. Yet she felt communion in it. Found a People. It was the only time she felt like she was alive … living with the dead, so to say. No one had to hide. No one was there to judge.

The only people hiding behind the veil of curtains were the remnants of light, desecrating the glory of the night with their filthy, shameful, carnal passion.

      She sighs
      Night
      Gone
      Coward
      Coward coward coward
      Can’t even get herself to show up at the hospital

No longer is the real part 0,

4ier has it, that reality,

transformed it 2, 2 ²² something where

σ and ω gone gone gone (Ꝝ!!!)

[great //PHASE CHANGE// rejoice]

the marquis is

dead! missing;

so begone hole in my black heart.^☻

A hum.. |t’s coming from her. Her throat, at least. She doesn’t want to make these sounds. All these sounds (||Tearing Tears||) All these cries (||Tearing Tears||) She doesn’t like it. Never had. Never wi║

²² Conway, J. H., and R. K. Guy\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

“The Look and Say Sequence”\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The Book of Numbers (1996): 208-209.\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

^☻ Alexander, David M., and Ryan C. Hickox || “What drives the growth of black holes?” || New Astronomy Reviews 56, no. 4 (2012): 93-121.

July 25, 2024