18.2.09

Blue light

In blue light, the 4 ghosts of insomnia come closer. seeing in me the blue light
while most are sleeping and not looking for memories. In blue light the ghosts
of insomnia chase me, this way, then change direction. when I am hiding in blue light, because I remember. The blue light. They chase me out of fear, and I run to convince them I am not spying on their daughters, wifes, sisters at this hour, in blue light. It does, they do. The blue night I discover must be turned off. But this will not convince them. While most are sleeping, in lights that are not blue. One of the ghosts tries to make me smile, tries to convinve me, there is something funny, but I have chosen not to laugh without blue light. Without blue light two of the ghosts have gone away and assured me the blue light won't arrest me. There might be cause not to get caught in the blue light. There were not 4 ghosts of insomnia I lied. But there was blue light. Momentarily, jumping on a strange man's voice and a piano in the rain. An old man speaking in the rain. What a speech, he adresses the rain, in a voice that more or less talks but also listens. It was an idea about blue light . .Looking for memories I can't find and some I can't loose. One of the ghosts is still with me. I am indecisive about weather to keep him. or not. What would sulphur say? I created ghosts to make this text interesting. And the blue light as a theme because at the time it was effective. but since then i have changed. Im not so convinced. You are an idiot in blue light. in most lights like blue. i can keep my cool. without making a big deal out of it. or maybe there were more than four ghosts.

what I just learnt from the past 1 minute 30 seconds. has changed. the text sometimes forms complex equations. sometimes getting caught in the wind of saddness. that momentary breeze. what the text set out to achieve and what it discovers to itself. in 2.46 minitue long spaces of transformation. you are there when the text starts dancing. it's no empty thing. It's nothing that won't discover itself in the avenues of time. yeah, yeah. in the space between stars, all memories count. themselves in. themselves lucky.

struck by the distance between stars that guides us.

No comments:

Loading...

Blog Archive

Followers