(My next blog is delayed by Evil. Blame her. Oh, and this was apparently inspired by a dance I saw one day when I decided to be cultured. Maybe I'll do a dark version of Evil's song next.)
Feel. The strange feel of something, the strange feel of something soft.
Poke. Poke. Rub. Wonder, what is it? Why wonder though?
Smell. There is the sensation, but is it real? It seems so, but yet nothing is to be smelled.
Click. The only sound out here.
Snap. The resistance of feeling. The only different feeling.
Move. Hit. Feel. The edge. Something hard is there, something different. No moving over there.
Trail. Something long, everywhere. One, two, three, four... They are one by one many. Everywhere.
Something else there. Whole. It wraps around. Falls down as well. Down, down, down.
Tug. A pull. To loosen the grip. Tug. It doesn’t change. Tug. It pulls conscious back too. Tug. It pulls all.
Breathing. It falls off. Fresh and smooth. Something is under it- but it’s the same as before. Raw. Soft.
Blind. There is something there. Shock. Something. Feel it. It shimmers, twitches. No feel yet.
Clutch. Something has it. Another one.
Strange. There are all sorts of things. Close mind- back to before again. Touching. Yes, feeling again. Feel it again, not wrapped but sprawled. Grab it, rub it again.
Curiosity. Dare to see. Shaded, crumpled. Rub. It moves in curious ways.
Examine. Work together to move. No shadows, shadows. No shadows, shadows. Pull and pull.
Feel with sight. The edge. It is shadows different. Not space. Press. Squish. So hard. What is it? Not air, not self, not shadowed. What is it?
Down. There is downwards. There is upwards. Tilt. Things are everywhere. Move them. See more. Tilt down. More strange things. Twist. Snap. A new thing. It shines like the edge. Shiny. Touch. It comes to self.
Movement. There is body. There is self. Self looks at self and wonders. Self is not edge, not strange thing. Not air, not shadowed thing. Self is different.
Bottom strange things can’t move. No sense in them. Strange things of the bottom wage war against them to get them working, but all there is is snap. Snap. Snap.
Rake. Raking strange thing against self changes shadow. Changes self.
Mind. There is processing. Think. Self is a strange thing. Strange thing is self. Move. Feel. Rub. Self controls it all. Self is all.
Realize. The edge is self. Self is all. Controlling the edge now. Make it move. Press. Push. Pull. Make it move.
Up and down. The edge is all around. Up, down. Self is all. Self is up and down.
Climb. Move up. Move down. Mostly up. Up, up, up. Higher, higher, higher. It goes on and on. Forever. Self is all. Self is forever.
Smash. Hit. Down, down, down. Nothing again. Nothing again to see.
Awake. Self is awake. Nothing to be seen- only to be felt.
Feel. The strange feel of something, the strange feel of something soft.
Poke. Poke. Rub. Wonder, what is it? Why wonder though?
Smell. There is the sensation, but is it real? It seems so, but yet nothing is to be smelled.
Click. The only sound out here.
Snap. The resistance of feeling. The only different feeling.
Move. Hit. Feel. The edge. Something hard is there, something different. No moving over there.
Trail. Something long, everywhere. One, two, three, four... They are one by one many. Everywhere.
Something else there. Whole. It wraps around. Falls down as well. Down, down, down.
Tug. A pull. To loosen the grip. Tug. It doesn’t change. Tug. It pulls conscious back too. Tug. It pulls all.
Breathing. It falls off. Fresh and smooth. Something is under it- but it’s the same as before. Raw. Soft.
Blind. There is something there. Shock. Something. Feel it. It shimmers, twitches. No feel yet.
Clutch. Something has it. Another one.
Strange. There are all sorts of things. Close mind- back to before again. Touching. Yes, feeling again. Feel it again, not wrapped but sprawled. Grab it, rub it again.
Curiosity. Dare to see. Shaded, crumpled. Rub. It moves in curious ways.
Examine. Work together to move. No shadows, shadows. No shadows, shadows. Pull and pull.
Feel with sight. The edge. It is shadows different. Not space. Press. Squish. So hard. What is it? Not air, not self, not shadowed. What is it?
Down. There is downwards. There is upwards. Tilt. Things are everywhere. Move them. See more. Tilt down. More strange things. Twist. Snap. A new thing. It shines like the edge. Shiny. Touch. It comes to self.
Movement. There is body. There is self. Self looks at self and wonders. Self is not edge, not strange thing. Not air, not shadowed thing. Self is different.
Bottom strange things can’t move. No sense in them. Strange things of the bottom wage war against them to get them working, but all there is is snap. Snap. Snap.
Rake. Raking strange thing against self changes shadow. Changes self.
Mind. There is processing. Think. Self is a strange thing. Strange thing is self. Move. Feel. Rub. Self controls it all. Self is all.
Realize. The edge is self. Self is all. Controlling the edge now. Make it move. Press. Push. Pull. Make it move.
Up and down. The edge is all around. Up, down. Self is all. Self is up and down.
Climb. Move up. Move down. Mostly up. Up, up, up. Higher, higher, higher. It goes on and on. Forever. Self is all. Self is forever.
Smash. Hit. Down, down, down. Nothing again. Nothing again to see.
Awake. Self is awake. Nothing to be seen- only to be felt.
Feel. The strange feel of something, the strange feel of something soft.
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