Part 2

I have not yet reached this end. I could at any moment, though I fear no god. I fear no end, I cannot train constant fear. Wind and sun plays through my hair and skin, wrap, winding. I have never seen this, though I maybe dreamed once. Have I mentioned they would look and smell the same? Drunk memories look just as peacefully piecey. High memories may look duller than when they happen. Quick survey, what do dreams look like? Not like now, but 15 minutes from now could look that way, that symbolic mash of slides, newspaper print slate, ready to stamp a quick, possibly incomplete impression. Smells trigger those memory thoughts, word order, stance.

What purpose have I purposed for myself? Thought, mostly. Thought random and untrained, thought impermanent minus action. Every movement and thought contains electric action. They fire alike and near, the connectivity sometimes stretches further than previous norm, nearness means likeness, not always sameness. Vicinity means placement and nearness, not always likeness. What a new, odd world I spin in...Ellipses. Do I enjoy it? Which way do I feel it? This feels like one shallow sense world, thoughts only real as actions. Thoughts the only authenticity, still strained through learning, action, anticipation. Which actions look real...the complex ones less than thought action movement. Which become more real? Electric or Kinetic? Potential or Inertial? Mind, thoughts act, they ring tangible and tangential, but we cannot always feel that real, that minute.

Surrounded by seagulls, they sit now, moved from the lake with little warning. They pluck, preen and may attack me. This, my unreal future: running from seagulls. Instead of running into a building, I dive into the lake, a quick protective covering. I hit my shallow head on sharp rocks, do the real dead man's float, then they peck me to pieces anyway. At least I'm dead first. When I die, I feed this still, needy earth. I scan backwards and find that I liked it, even the sad, real, pain parts. Boy, they happen loudly, dull while sitting in gray matter until "I" call it forward; Actions trick it forward like my sex: Easily and loudly. All animals, we sure get carried on instinct, caught on physicality and emotion. Oh, society.