Don't Say "No" To Me

Who do you really trust?  Who do you believe?  Who will actually believe you???  Who just listens and nods and "yeah yeah yeah, tell me more" fuck you.  Seriously, who do you trust?  Who do you trust who will not try to tamper with your memories later and create new ones because you don't know who they were talking to at that specific time because you were not going out of your way to take down the exact specifics of that particular conversation and the only thing you have to know that it happened are physical artifacts?

Yes, it is weird!  It is okay to say that it is weird, because it is!  Are you drunk?  Are you high?  No, I just want to be sure that who you are talking to now gets your message to who will execute is all.  Long short story: aye, I can't carry on a conversation one on one if it's more than one sentence.  I laugh so hard saying that, but yes, it's getting worse by increments.

I don't know what to do about it.  Half empty, half full.  Maybe I've gotten so good at it that it sounds seamless.  Or maybe a "?".  I am deluding myself.  It rings as true as a tuning fork struck in a wood.  If a tuning fork rings and you are the only one around to hear it, does it make a sound?  Where is the line with you?  What are you really capable of?  I can't help laughing.  What you owe me.  What you owe me is what I want!

I want to dream all of the time.  Sleep all of the time.  Sleep to access dreaming.  Being awake and alive, breathing, is fantastic; breathing has its perks.  I can help people.  I can be of use.  I can have utility.  I can have staying power.  I can create memories for other people.  Dreaming is beautiful.  I cannot create memories or trouble for other folks while I am sleeping and dreaming.  In dreams, I can be whatever I want to be, but spiders come as large as television screens when I'm not careful to set their sizes.  When I am dreaming I can be as sexual and touchy feely as I want to be without creeping out your friends.  In dreams everyone carries a sword.   While you sleep, however, your body dies and consumes itself until your dreaming consciousness ceases to exist.  I have to be awake to keep my dreaming self alive.

That fact burns my core.

I guess what really keeps us the most uneasy is not being able to know who is taking advantage of your constant disposition.  Who is actually helping and who is aiding and abetting the you's you are not aware of that you discover through their paper trail.  If you are, I will find out eventually.  And there will be questions that will need answers.  The pathetic thing is they will probably have answers ready and you will not know the difference.

So what?  Sew buttons.  Kill them all.  Save yourself.  For what?  Conversation with you?  That's a terrible plan.  They are using you.  It's not symbiotic.  Your currency doesn't translate and the currency that does is one to one at best.  An unsolvable puzzle.  Their currency doesn't convert to yours either.  Passing monopoly capital between unmatched sets of Milton Bradley games.  I'll be the wheel barrow!  Okay, I'll be the millennium falcon!  On second thought, I'll be the boot.  And I'll be an iron?

Re-establishing the base of trust is one of the hardest parts about attempting to return from a compound fracture of the mind.  If what you were doing got so far out of line that you wound up with part of your consciousness sticking out of your skull, you have screwed up badly.  Whatever fail safes and flags you put up inside your head to prevent it were somehow run down, knocked over, ignored, or invisible and you may have slowed or performed a rolling stop near them, but all in all the cumulative effect is you blew past them and we are saving you from ultimate destruction with the emergency brake.  All fins out.  Take it as close to an atmosphere as you possibly can without landing.  Slow down and listen.  That sound you are hearing is not silence.  That sound you are hearing is alarms screaming at the tops of their electronic lungs.  Wires burned through carrying too much current.  Stop, listen, breath the scent, make some damn corrections.

Yes, we can live like this, but not for long.  The clock stopped four days ago.  You are still sitting on a volatile warhead.  You cannot defuse it without killing yourself, but you can build a new clock.   Get to work!  We are not easily convinced, but individually each of us is.  I won't say "no" to you.




///can you hear the sounds they make when they scratch against the floor?