purephase

Try as we might, there's just no way to avoid the in-evitable. We're trapped. The walls close in as you grab the sheets and hold them close.

'Where have you been? What have you been doing?'

You couldn't possibly understand the answers, even if there were any. Talk as if you know, believe as if you honestly feel that heartfelt enthusiasm for the restless nights of "creativity". They've been scarred by your wanton daily acts of "kindness".

'How do you know the truth? When does the bright shining bulb shine in your face, obscurring all detail with it's contrasts, it's black and whites, it's bleak and misunderstanding depths of light?'

There's a struggle. You can hardly give up now. You've committed yourself. Either to the front, or to the rear, both are asylums. Political asylums, mental reliefs, hospitals.. it's all the same.

'Who are you?'

'Why would you do this to me? Why would you do this to anyone?'

'We're here to help, we're here to show you the way, open the doors that you can't even see. Crack open the windows to let loose the breeze, the light, the the the the the and on and on and on and on. There's no stopping, there's no end.'

'We've only just begun'.