Sam shipped me an article about death and it stirred something in me, so I have to take to the boards and find formulae for what's been going on recently.
What is it about the concept of loss that is so provocative and uniquely distant from every other emotion?
There's something incredibly definitive about loss. Something that removes you from your world and places you, without warning, in a lonely nebula, constantly treading on thin air and repeatedly aware that suddenly, time has lost the possibility to move in both directions.
The flexible notion of your internal environment has finally collapsed, and the big crunch is seismically approaching.
It is the fact that something that took so long to build could fall so quickly that showcases the amount of damage, the acceleration of chaos, that is so unsolvable.
When such a chaotic evil cannot be conjugated, the mind is subject to -not a slow uninstall- but the instant, jagged shattering of its own greatest work of art.
To discuss the object of the loss:
Its the incommunicable decay,
the removal of our twin cohesion,
the destruction of beauty
the destruction of beauty
the destruction of utmost beauty.
The person you are thinking of is no longer itself.
Every moment of eternity that passes, you're left with a more and more degenerate memory, and as the once unified path dissociates into synaptic shrapnel,
the nail in your coffin is that nothing will ever be so out of your hands
as this adulteration of hope.
What is it about the concept of loss that is so provocative and uniquely distant from every other emotion?
There's something incredibly definitive about loss. Something that removes you from your world and places you, without warning, in a lonely nebula, constantly treading on thin air and repeatedly aware that suddenly, time has lost the possibility to move in both directions.
The flexible notion of your internal environment has finally collapsed, and the big crunch is seismically approaching.
It is the fact that something that took so long to build could fall so quickly that showcases the amount of damage, the acceleration of chaos, that is so unsolvable.
When such a chaotic evil cannot be conjugated, the mind is subject to -not a slow uninstall- but the instant, jagged shattering of its own greatest work of art.
To discuss the object of the loss:
Its the incommunicable decay,
the removal of our twin cohesion,
the destruction of beauty
the destruction of beauty
the destruction of utmost beauty.
The person you are thinking of is no longer itself.
Every moment of eternity that passes, you're left with a more and more degenerate memory, and as the once unified path dissociates into synaptic shrapnel,
the nail in your coffin is that nothing will ever be so out of your hands
as this adulteration of hope.
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