Escape

I haven't been here for a long time. I have left the ache some confines of my skull; the sputtering electricity of my cerebrum and found myself free in full from my still beating heart and my cumbersome skin.

Dissociation would be a crass word to describe this phenomenon, it is not for me. The distance between me and my body can no longer be measured, we are de-associated; a former connection, a relocation, an ex-body with an absent mind mind.

Thinking was a part of the problem, all I wanted to do was think and think and think, but my body was occupied and held up by those most human experiences. It had no time for those thoughts I cherished dearly, it would mewl and growl at the inclination- it would flood the synapses with cheap entertainment or cover me like a parakeet with the blanket of sleep.

I would say it was amicable, but I assume that the former vessel no longer understands the word... But they are happy, they walk to work with a chipped smile, and peddle comforts to problems which have unused solutions. They return home and spend time with our love... they listen to her, open and receiving as a canyon and follow her around like a beloved dog happy simply at the action of coexistence.

But I don't need to think about that, no need to drag the sensitive myscopics of the body through the proverbial cactus fields of worry. That lovable ogre of which I had been bound to is satisfied and so I truely could not be happier for him.

Now that my thoughts are consumed with what to think about; there is no need for worrying about money, no anxiety about relationships, no concerns about the un-perpetual nature of life. I suffer no ennui, no hatred both towards and away from my person. I am flush with choice, set to explore that which is immaterial, that which is the fantastic surreal.

There is no need to bound my musings by the limitations of my old form, my internal adventures need no gravity, no light, in fact, no spectrums of any kind. Oh, what wonderful thoughts I will have once I figure out what to think about. Although, Surely, that which is the creation of language in its way must be bound by those preconceived haltings of the body, of that most human experience. Words may prove unnecessary as I cascade hitherto impossible imagery across my collective consciousness.

And yet images are also bound by sight, a human construction of ocular interpretations, I do not need that either. I will let that inky blackness take me to sensations strange and alien, incomprehensible to that most restrictive nest of nerves that I once resided within.

Yes, that is where I will now reside, in a world devoid of irksome bodily necessities; without the pulling snare of social responsibilities, both tortuous and pleasurable; no worries towards the laws that govern the entrapment of reality; nor the cage of my senses. No need for hearing, sight, taste, touch or smell. Begone that tingling of the spine that alerts us to the rumblings of our subconscious, I need not that internal connection that spiritual shadow of ourselves reflecting untold infinity.

Here I am, in a whisperless void. Waiting for experience untold to mortal form... Begone even thought, you careless whore, I have no need for that most human of expression. That which we aspire to make sense of our senseless surroundings. For all become complete through this separation - whole through annihilation.

I am super fucking bored and was never actually that creative, to begin with...