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  • Writer's pictureAmelia Nicol

REPEATED WORDS ((it never ends))

Would ask the firmament again the paces allowed in responses or the same questions over and again, the ways in which we are able to circumvent them or the timing that we separate ourselves from others with. Those ideas were closed to this, encapsulated form and conditioned themselves to convince of extra sensory divergences of responsibility or the convenience of preparation and decision making to the crime of mentalism. As if every chance we get is already swallowed away for us, against some current we must be imagining for ourselves. these cold open loneliness repetition comfort lines rehearsed ways to protect free thought, considered the likeliness that information reliability exists to us anymore, that we’ll ever be on the same page. each idea for response had already formed itself, had already considered the devices necessary response, had already factored for the will to decide a reaction: and every decidable action in account for the doxastic responsibility imagined for the escape artists wondering and refusing set limits for risk assessments and global alarm mechanisms. Here, another alarm to start, another balm for the bruising, another bombardment of consideration or catastrophic wake beyond the fronts of apriory. there are plenty of lists to give yourself, reliable response or rhetoric, here’s word finding for the in-between, here’s another thesaurus lacking the diction between the garnered syntax of definition. What our searching has lead us about, the ways in which we consider each other and the loner syndrome disheveling like, how are people around you when they’re not around you? Imagining these faces I’ve seen or those I’ve never met, able to shift or morph them to say what I imagine, what I condense in medium and return to myself in cautions or refusal limits have bound to those same sacrifices and offerings of consent idealisms and anxiety ridden stupor and ambiguity senselessness in possibility convolutions of wanted interaction. The places it matches up, the most frightening sense of togetherness: I had imagined or dreamed this, some part of my mind had guessed based on experience and interaction, the possible conditions in allowed or regularity rhetoric for any given situation, and in the potential of recombinance suddenly formulates indicatives of future or past, far too familiar and far too foreign. Existential detachments reform against the frequented language, and how condensed have we become in catch phrases and acronym its own evidence in persistent stupor about the normal or acceptable words, the actions and posturing that move these uninterrupted symbols to shapes of syllable and motivations in sound, that allow for such sense of eased togetherness, likeness is becoming more and more a continuer in absence. imagery is ever escaping, barely set a severance for the optional or proposed weariness trial of respectfulness that fears the sights crashed into such quandary. Practiced as if interruption were possible, as if the streaming consciousness that takes parts of us to share would ever realize itself or find actual stillness in a universe of constant motion and constant sound. There are places within me that silence blooms, or distorts, or dims to the sweetness manufactured with saliva. There is actual stillness in coincidences of space without time, as if we could manufacture it in these strange machines, everywhere else holds similar limits, these animals we are share each to certain points. here, these were building blocks and protective constraints to the information reliability in nature and homeostasis that won’t compete. These severe balances we contort ourselves to, these animals we are in humanitarian bindings that must suffice the past to decipher the honor promised in immortality from the pride of assurance, that test the separation we must be from environment or attainability or affordance structure, an echo niche and actors performing our characters for the continuum of the planet. (it never ends)

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