Thursday, July 22, 2010
There are no words, nothing, nothing absolutely, not anything slightly resembling recognition, description. Dried up, yes, everything is shrunk to the bone, purely corpuscles, spongy tunnels partitioning marrow, yes, I’m afraid everything is gone, I’m afraid so. Terribly sorry, no, it is dreadful but this is the end, undeniably so, I know, I’m just as embarrassed as you are, but there is nothing to do, as there is nothing to say, please, the words, I wish I could say they have disappeared, but they never appeared. No, they will not arrive, no I don’t believe they can be late, no I don’t believe they can be reached, I know, it is awful, no there is nothing to say, no words, there are no words, nothing, nothing at all. Meaning is parched, no not even, nothing can alleviate, invigorate as that would imply a restoration. No, unfortunately there can be none of that, as I have said before, and must continue to repeat that there are no words, they have no place, but can not be displaced or even misplaced, meaning then we must be going as well. Where? I’m afraid to have to do this again and in addition what I thought I alluded to previously, but there is no place either. Yes, so we must, well, just go. Yes I think that is all we can do for the moment. Pardon? You want to say something? Now why would you want to do that and may I please inquire on how you plan to go about that as well? Well, I think it might be a trifle difficult if there are no words, and if there is nothing to say. Get our bearings? On what? Ground? None of that either. I wish we could hover, but that would imply air, yes, now do you see? Your chest is not even rising, not even shallowly. Yes, now you see the worst of it when I say there is nothing, that means no rest either, yes, we have to keep circling like mechanical buzzards tethered to authoritarian ropes, yes, no flying either, yes, but we don’t even get the pleasure of eating, as that would, yes, I see you are beginning to, well, there is nothing really to understand, but perhaps, as we twist endlessly, floundering, we can hope to soon shed our skins, yes, that is the penultimate procedure but unfortunately there is no end either, but, yes, this is but an amphibian condition, yet devoid of metamorphosis. But, yes, you can be glad to know of the lack of pressure, or, perhaps absence has its own weight measured in the false steps of time, can you hear it? Well, of course not, but sometimes there is a pattering, light and uncertain, others a thundering delinquency, in fragmented, undistributed portions. What is that? Oh, well, somehow those are allowed, sometimes they slip through, yes, moments that is. Yes, you’re right that is what this is, if it is anything, which means it is ending shortly as there are no words, really, no, I have always meant it or at least what else is there to say except to say, nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing, I can not go on really I wish I could, there is a void, but even to give it a name is incorrect as that would mean I would know what it means, so, rather I stick with no, nothing, nothing, nothing, no, no, nothing, nothing, no, at all, there is nothing, no words, nothing at all, nothing no nothing, no words nothing, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, nothing, no words, nothing at all, nothing, no nothing at all, no, nothing, no, really, nothing, nothing, there is nothing, no words, nothing at all, nothing no nothing, no words, nothing, no.