offwiththeirdollheads: (Default)
It begins with a sensation.

Like a fist to the stomach, an ice cold bath, a paper cut. Sharp and fast.
I'm standing at the top of the stairs and the sensation arrives, swift and direct, and the blood surges through my veins like lava and yes, I am ready to erupt. I am standing at the top of the stairs and the overwhelming urge to throw myself down its short flight of twenty steps grips me. Yet, these steps are not cushioned with linoleum or carpet, these are hard, cold concrete slaps and I want my skull to greet each one with a sickening crack. I want my bones to twist and snap and bend and break. I want my spine to shatter like peanut brittle. I want to feel each moment as I break and lose my shape. I don't want to recognise the reflection.

I've been here before.

Standing on the curb edge, waiting for the three tonne lorry to pass. Imagining what it would feel like to marry my flesh to it's hot metal. Or walking by the river, I wonder what it would be like to try to swallow it whole. The bubbles escaping from the corners of my mouth as I submerge further. I let it all in. Sinking deeper into the abyss.

Yet, it is fleeting. As quick as the sensation takes hold, it releases me from its clasp. Offering me a moment to look inside the cacophony of madness. It's like looking inside a large shell. The softest whisper is transformed in to a vibrating pulse that can not be escaped. It rings in your ears and the claws slide in.

And then it's gone.

Like a hypnotist snapping his fingers, his volunteer is brought back from the trance. He may be slightly dazed, bewildered even; what did he just experience? He's not quite sure but he knows it was fraught with danger. There's a relief afterwards. Thank god that's over with. Whatever that sensation was, whatever it meant, it's done with. Except as the willing volunteer stands up from the hypnotist's chair, he realises that he was not so willing after all and he's signed a contract with that sensation now. As sure as the sun rises each morning, that sensation is set to return.
offwiththeirdollheads: (Default)
We're all just human-shaped balls of energy zipping around the planet, some of us destroying stuff, some of us creating stuff. Taking, giving, stealing, losing, consuming, purging. Needless to say, it's all an exchange. Taking or losing, sometimes simultaneously, sometimes over long periods of time. In one hundred years it won't matter anyway and yet it still baffles me at what lengths some people will go to in order to accumulate that little bit of extra energy for themselves; whether it be in the name of money or power, it doesn't matter. It's a loss for another person. It's an exchange, for those that receive, someone has to give, whether voluntary or with no choice at all. Some of us have understood the concept of trading, an equal exchange. I will give you something and you will give me something in return. I scratch your back and you scratch mine, or insert whichever metaphor you prefer to use. There's too much focus on what one can accumulate over time and less focus on what can be done in order to help each other. With this mission statement of 'Accumulate. Gain and Conquer' there is only one future direction.

Implosion.

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offwiththeirdollheads: (Default)
Not an Oracle

January 2016

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