Suddenly, everything that was shades of grey is now black and white: all this exists in stark contrast. It only took a few moments to flip one side to the other. Life is a coin. Life is a thing you can’t control.
Suddenly, where I was trying to guess at twisted and braided copper, it’s fallen into place, and this wire goes somewhere: there is electricity in it, and pain with that.
Suddenly, I’ve turned a corner – or more to the point, you’ve turned a corner – and as it always turns out, we’ve met to part ways. We are much like a two streams parting and crossing and crossing again. Now, parting again.
Suddenly, this ticking thing in my chest has stopped. Is it time, or is it me? I’m still breathing. I still feel pain; oh, love, I still feel pain. Yes, it’s stopped, and it feels like someone ripped the organ out and is playing a dark tune on it.
Suddenly, I realize you know what I mean: you understand what I’m saying here, and how it all works out, or doesn’t. You understand how my words are backwards, like how they always are. I am finally getting somewhere, and you’re finally going somewhere. Tit for tat. You know what I mean. You’re grinning. I like that. Or I don’t.
Suddenly, you disappear. Everything exists in the contrast of that moment. Vapour trails and mercinary engines. Mortail coils and the words we write to wind and unwind them again. Life is a clock. Life is a thing you can’t control.