Friday, May 22, 2009

The epitaph of "I"

word count: 741

I is dead. We is alive.

Walking through the fast gate. Looking above and below. Looking straight at. My dog sensing danger. What is happening? The pool will now be closed.
I look straight at. They look straight back. I look briefly, they look long. I look away. They look harder. He looks too. They look away. The numbers are sheer, complete. Analogy of situations is confusing, yet simple. I is week. They is strong.
Why are the numbers strong? Why do they mean more? I look through the sheer sand and heat, and see so many outside. They conjugate, they speak. They know what is on. Control of the situation goes to them. They know. I know.
I can be weak. I can be strong. Why is the I weak? I want to know.
I shatter people with the throw of a stone.
I kill silent minds with an ounce.
I stray beings from underneath
I like they from a killing distance.
I can be above and below the square.
I am the shape of a mind with no thoughts.
I am the silent wind of the falling star.
I will fray existence for them.
They can gather is what they know. I can know above and below, I can know what they don’t.
Look at the great blue of above. Relax. Sift deeper into the ground. Rest on the systems of the earth. For the glitches and blur will move about and fix themselves.
The dog brays. The cats bark. Both are milling about such as they are exploding with passion. Alone, the I is week. With the bark and bray together it becomes the underneath of the above. The base of a higher being. The bark of a systems glitch is the bit of booting that the byte of a dog biffs on the cat. A debeon foobar can create the language of two together.
We are like the dogs and cats of the sty stem of the earth. We measure the periods between our sentences like Whitman, and create degrees of people to analyze them. Alone, the I cannot formulate enough spam to create a forlorn idea. With the we, they analyze ideas to formulate a spam that can become coherrant, an idea of a such a mind. They together Slashdot a blog to make the I weak and long. With the I away, the we makes a trip to the overseas capitol to zip the virus and create a world of ideas. The I is left alone and weakended under viruses too broad and stray to imagine. The I cannot handle such daemons of the mind. Only another type of formulating virus comes and sweeps the dust of the dots away to form a clear and conscious path of the trail of the mind. A worn makes it’s way in through the ears of the program. It weasels its way past the cookies and seeds to form it’s own pat of utter destruction and worthlessness. Take apart the three main parts, form a bridge of wires and plastic coatings to bug the rest of work created. The mind does not separate well what is and what isn’t. While some bray and some bark, the worm of existence makes it’s way past common attributes to make an entire new system of thinking for the common ground. This system is highly introverted and dangerous, it defeats the I. The I is left bruised and bloodies on the ground, lifeless.
Still the dog will bray and the cat will bark. Strange is a weapon only of the high minded. The cat will bark at the boats of glitches sailing in the wind of grass. The dog will still bray at the coats of blue following the splattered light against the wall. The bloodied wires of the I will stand forth and shout “I am still here!” but lifeless instead. The sparkle of the red circles formulate a new light within itself and exclaim that once and for all within all the proud and glory of it…. it is pronounced dead. The they has conquered again and showed no mercy. The drifts of the seas in numbers conquers all and takes the pirates down with it. Strength of the they will conquer the I, and lots of bruised and bloodied fights will prevail. Fear not the byte or bickering, fear the conquering of I. For without I, nothing will prevail.

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