Inner turmoil created from the silliest most ridiculous kind of loss, mourning the signals that no longer can pass through the veins of the system, created only to make us feel connected, by tones, by waves, sounds of the unknown, until familiarized through vocal chords of your bud, your friend, the one you love. Comfort zone, too easy to get into with this device, take it away and have a panic attack. Since when do we need constant stimulation -- motion, movement -- since when must we have a schedule, a ladder to go up to the next level, finding people in the middle and the outskirts and see them struggle also to do the same thing as you and you can't stop even if you see it outside of you. Pity the fools who get entangled in the web, the intricate interconnected wires which bring you and another together in the same room but only by sound, by words comforting your wholeness, your physical isness! You know you exist, finally, cause before you sure as hell didn't feel it. What a phenomenon, this crazy technological advancement, de-evolution of human transcendence, the electrical charge between two hearts, that taken away emulate the ceasing of the beating, of the living, of the pumping machine that drives us every day.
But then, I can see why we've grown so as a species, connected by strings of exasperated fuses, sparks have flown for less than a decade but look how far we've projected into a world that's united, in some odd shape but still taking form, letting us build on friendships unknown, breaking down walls without fear of rejection, of loneliness and indigestion, heart burn, uncontrollable and inconceivable heartache! Sure, we've grown, 'cause now take it away and we might be persuaded to build upon the knowledge gained from hiding behind our phones and showing our souls once the connection's been made.
Tic ... toc ... tic ... toc ...
The clock is running late for it's own meeting with fate, they're colliding suddenly and breath and life is created one instant and jaded becomes the one who mentions it. Don't be late for your very important date or the well will run dry and then what will they do? Those who depend on you and sometimes even abuse you with questions and questions and questions and KNOWLEDGE, all of a sudden knowing the question was the answer even though forbidden for a minute, eclectic it was when you told them to wait a second for the well to get filled, for the well to give back and for the well to run dry again! Fate counted the minutes and said "fuck that noise I ain't waiting around!" and left only to return when life no longer demanded that everything make sense and everything have order. Understanding gave back to the the well of fulfillment, filling no one's cup but refilling with good luck. Aren't we all just trying to make a buck, to use what the well has provided and return it at dusk? We run the risk of ... being cut off by the bus!
No really, I just got cut off by the bus and couldn't finish that sentence up.