Together Apart

Technical dream. If you get numbers 1 and 2.

Before I came and before I went away. Here was there and there was here.

But in relation to what space do I know this difference?

But in relation to what time do I understand the dream?

I mistreat my self-being according to its own laws.

It is about smiling after death again.

Fall over, fall asleep, fall in love, fall apart.

There are no numbers. Dreaming.

Get up, awake, alone, together.

Just dreaming.

When dreams start to wake you up, everything is against you.

There are no excuses for it. So it starts to excuse everything.

It excuses you from everything. And you collapse to one thought.

The end is in sight.

The unknow justice of a dream.

Site of the end.

I am not dreaming.

Colour expressions must always go back on the shelf once finished with.

A captain goes back to the continent once de-ported.

I am here and not here and there and not there once de-parted.

The difference. Wherever it comes from.

It would put the islands together as one continent if water could be less about floating.

If one could float around anything.

I have never been this good at anything. And that will continue to be true forever.

Some things are not true forever. Therefore, some things are not true now.

Some of the untrue things now will be true in the future.

Therefore, the future is not about now and vice-versa.

In colour dreams. No bride and groom.

A total distance. Totally de-ported. Fully de-parted.

I give back the words in unsilence to language that means something.

This meant nothing.

To it. To them.

They have their own meaning already.

Dreamt up my place in this place on my own.

This is my place. This is the difference.

I am somewhere. And I do not need to find myself.

I need to lose myself.

They need to find themselves. They need to find themselves somewhere.

This is an ode to self-disgust and a manifesto to its political future.

The future of an as yet undreamt truth.

Dreaming itself up. Doing it all now.

Things never happen as they are in dreams. Thought never reveals the event of the world.

Thought disguises the world as the event of Thought’s undermining.

In reality, there is no event.

There is only dreaming.

Masterful teacher of the untrue.

The corrupt masterpiece of difference.

Technical dreams. Not black and white but true and untrue.

So, colourful.

Colour is the conclusion.

Put back onto an unmaintained shelf of disordered conclusion.

It goes both ways, so we cannot.

But we can go either way, anyway.

We dream that these dreams will take us, but these dreams take us too far away for that.

The known injustice of a dream.

Before I might wake up again, self-disgust,

Excused from everything. The excuse of nothing,

I will need to undergo another prolonged dream.

And still they need it more than me.

When all there is awake to see is a dream too far gone to be able to wake itself up,

At least, I have not been sleeping well.


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