. // THE INSOMNIAC'S CALENDAR. )

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perhaps

not
5
14%
in this era
14
39%
it is unseen
17
47%
 
Total votes : 36

( ── ⊱ ❝ lxix. )

Postby sinensys » Thu Apr 18, 2019 2:02 pm

    i have seen
    your form
    at last!
    and now
    i bow before
    the heron
    and the snake
    and i ask them
    to grant me
    the patience
    and the strength
    to keep going
    as i am headed now.
    you benevolent shards
    of one whole being,
    you facets
    of the same god!
    your duality
    does nothing
    but instill reverence
    in my otherwise
    cold and disinterested body.
    i thank you
    for being patient
    with my blind
    and tentative stumbling.

    now that i have seen you
    - and i mean
    truly seen you
    in my mind's eye -
    i can begin
    your altar.
    i have the time
    and space
    cleared for you
    and the creation
    of your noble placeholder!

    my only regret
    is that i will one day
    grow to believe
    that i was foolish
    in believing in you
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( ── ⊱ ❝ l. )

Postby sinensys » Wed Apr 24, 2019 5:19 am

    why do you doom 5w6? why have you decided that i am most difficult to love because of who- no, what i fear? why is it that because i have refused to let myself be taken advantage of in a way that hurts me most, i am considered closed off, unapproachable? why is it that because i try not to tread across others' toes, i am considered distant, and it is not considered worth asking me why? why is it that the space i give between myself and others is considered a safety net for me? it is not i who requires help. it is not i who feels awkward around that silent and sullen beast who does not give its thoughts away easily, yet gives itself at a moment's notice.

    not me. never me. it is for you. it is for you.
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( ── ⊱ ❝ li. )

Postby sinensys » Fri Apr 26, 2019 1:03 am

    my throat is in pain, and my voice is rough.

    is it rough with disuse or misuse? my head says both and my heart says neither, and no one living will give me a clear answer. the dead just taunt me for these thoughts, but i will ignore them (eventually, though not now).
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( ── ⊱ ❝ lii. )

Postby sinensys » Sat Apr 27, 2019 3:24 pm

    such is the modern tragedy:

    a cluster of humans gather around, the stench of fear and blood and smoke leaves the air hazy, the group's vision collectively blurring between the real and surreal planes before them. days pass. they wander farther still: they have nowhere else to be, no one else to go to. anyone who wasn't part of the cluster that was sat in the backroom of the debate hall was dead, or beyond repair and could not be saved, so it was decided silently that it would be more humane for those struggling survivors to tire themselves out and slowly, one by one, become still - and hopefully at peace, finally. that was the most they could hope for. if they hoped for anything more, that fickle god may just turn around and do exactly the opposite, annoyed by mankind's shrill and very shallow demands.

    so they traveled for twelve days, until they reached a plain that bordered one of the few forests left. there, one by one, each set out to fulfill a role. one for hunting, one for trapping. one for clearing paths, one for building things. one for gathering, and lastly, one for crafting weapons. one by one, they set out to do their jobs, a weak and half-hearted attempt to scrape together what little they can to create a fraction of what they had before. an even lesser fraction of what they could have had.

    and they continued for days, for weeks, like this, until one day the weapons crafter spoke up: he spoke of organisation, and of saving the human race. the trapper pursed her lips; she never trusted the man who doled out jobs unnecessarily, despite the rest of them being able to split it on skill voluntarily and willingly. the builder nodded and said he agreed, and he suggested they do things the old fashioned way. he suggested that they vote. the trapper's lip curled even more in disgust, for she had ended up in that debate hall unwillingly, leaving behind her wife and son, who she hoped had died more peacefully than some of the people who managed to fight off death for a couple of days, madly frothing at the mouth and batting away invisible demons, before they finally have out and their gazes turned unblinking as they looked up to stare at the sun one last time.

    the path clearer suggested that they focus their efforts elsewhere: there was a herd of deer that resided not too far off, and they should move to try and capture some to farm. the hunter looked on, interested in only the first half of the path clearer's words, venison on her mind. it had to have been months since she'd had any sort of meat that wasn't a squirrel or the odd hare, and it would have been years since she'd had venison, even. the gatherer remained silent; they were mute, and they didn't care for the companionship of others, simply seeking out resources idly and returning them to their camp. it wasn't even half a village, yet alone the builder's boasts of being a town.

    but the crafter spoke up again about reorganising their roles, now that the builder and the rest of them had done a wonderful job of getting the base up so quickly, and so skilfully! now, he said, it was time to seek out other life and become a beacon of hope for the other survivors out there who had scrambled together in other places. the builder nodded. the hunter tilted her head and mused that surely their building, which was not designed to withstand such extremes, had remained, so surely there were others who were just as lucky or who had planned accordingly, she laughed. the path clearer looked to the trapper helplessly, hoping that she would speak up. but the trapper knew- she knew. she knew what the crafter and the builder were trying to do, and she hated it. she hated, hated it. they cruel and selfish creatures who sought simple adoration, the kind that was borderline devotion. she knew them. they were like this even before the tragedy.

    and so she this spat at them, and then reasoned that, in a foolish attempt to gain more followers, they were only going to dwindle their resources and make things already more painful for the few that survived. mankind was doomed already, and no amount of human perseverence was going to restore their collective empire ever. it was time to let it go and return to the real world, their world. the mess right now that was beyond their little hut that they met in to eat it, hidden from the sweltering heat or frozen waters above. she stopped her tirade, inspecting each of the other members of their tiny society - well, except for the gatherer, but they were simply another ambling beast that moved beside them, aiding them unknowingly as they amassed a collection of bolts, acords, seeds, rope, hammers, and other, seemingly random items and trinkets that could be scavenged from previously loved buildings. the gatherer was not really a part of their little society, but definitely a valuable asset to the camp. no one was going to kick them out just yet.

    but the weapons crafter had threatened to do so before, much to the trapper's disappointment. he's muttered about the gatherer on more than one occasion, at least once a day by nowm though it used to be only once a week when the gatherer tried to get involved but couldn't understand them. the trapper had narrowed her eyes and hissed at him that he was no longer a leadership candidate, and that he was in no position to hold any sort of power over any one lf them, confusing gatherer included. so he let them be. she suspected that it waz only for now.

    and yet despite all this, their village grew, and with it, the clashing between the two sides: the trapper and path clearer on one, and the builder with the crfter on the other, the hunter flitting back and forth on different subjects. they fought and grappled for that unspoken control and indescribable power over their little oasis in their rubble-filled world. and as their conflict and power rose, the gatherer remained the same. they watched as the group progressed, wondering if anything would truly change. the sad truth they observed was that it didn't when the council of five was formed for those two sides to sit and argue on, just like they did all those years ago in that debate hall centuries ago when the very first disaster struck. and then they rebuilt the hall over, and over, and over again, each one slightly different on the outside, but terrifyingly identical on the inside. it was the one thing they could agree on.

    so the outsider eventually gave up and learned to never make a sound or suggest to the others that they could hear or speak. they drifted away from the council of six, the the other three had in the very beginning. the gatherer was tired, so tired of their repetition. at this rate, they couldn't tell if it was intentional or not.

    but this stayed the same every time:
    people would rather avoid change. they would die or kill to prevent change, because everyone wants something normal. the problem is that everyone's personal norm wasn't exactly identical, so they had to share ideas to get a broad view of just what, collectively, they would decide as the new normal and work to set it as such. the drawback is that no one seemed willing to talk anymore. or rather, they were willing to talk, so long as you agreed with them. otherwise, they were free to ignore you, yell at you, ostracise you, humiliate you. the gatherer had carried the brunt of most of these things, each reset forcusing on one of them in that very pattern. even the pattern wasn't willing to change, just as the people grew more and more unyielding. they would rather stick to what they knew. they avoid that murky depth we call the unknown in favor of standing in the light, even though that glow comes from a burninh firest from centuries ago, caused by the very first catastrophe that trapped them all in this cursed fate.
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( ── ⊱ ❝ liii. )

Postby sinensys » Sun May 05, 2019 5:31 pm

    the creatures sit silently in the back of the trunk, slouching and swaying side to side slightly as the windowless vehicle moves onwards, following that unseen road. they sit silently- silently, neither wanting to speak up, neither wanting to raise their voice and express their concern. neither wants to disturb the already gloomy atmosphere, the air dense with bitterness and disappointment. they are unwilling occupants, after all.

    the two of them sit side by side, the beast of the south to the left of the other creature. she sits silently, rage barely contained. she occasionally lets slip a hiss or a huff as their ride to a disturbing but unknown destination progresses, transporting them without their agreement. she is always angry, and as such, they made sure to shackle her, keeping her contained, manageable. she was always a handful, full of snark and spite to lash out and counter others.

    but the beast of the north... the beast of the north is tired. he is a thing of slow movement, fond of bulky jumpers and scarves and warm fireplaces in contrast to the cold. the cold - how it misses the cold. it misses the biting burn of the chilly air in the morning and afternoon. it misses the way the subways sound as the doors close and the train moves along. it misses the way the snow falls in the evening when the wintry cardinal ceases its song and lets the silence snap in place, echoing through those long and plentiful forests. he is tired of things being different, of things being wrong (so wrong) that he becomes physically ill as he overheats. he sits silent, but unchained; he does not require physical maiming or restricting, not when he disarms and cripples himself the way he has since those delightful snows changed to summer rains and the foliage shifted from pines to palms. he lacks motivation, ambition. he is a creature of emptiness.

    they are irreconcilable, disagreeable.

    and yet despite their differences, they are both creatures of the west: they are used to the sun drifting nearer and nearer, but never truly reaching them. that is their norm. they prefer the darkness, where the excited deer lies down to rest and the cheery wagtail quiets down for the night. they do not enjoy being around others of high activity, not for too long, anyways. even if they do enjoy watching it from afar for a little while, occasionally. and so the two fused, two becoming one. they still move as two separate beasts, one skittering and the other ambling, but they are within the confines of one creature, two sides of the same brain.

    my brain.
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( ── ⊱ ❝ liv. )

Postby sinensys » Sun May 12, 2019 2:38 am

    my, what sharp teeth you carry! look as they gleam in the bitter sunlight, watch as they glow at night! these teeth that you gathered, that you scavenged, they truly are extraordinary.

    it is a shame you don't know how to use them. you've assembled a false jaw with them for yourself, a weapon crafted from teeth, but they are nothing more than decorative: a simple bite would destroy them. and yet you parade yourself and your newly acquired set of false teeth, a wide array of fangs collected from bodies both breathing and buried. you believe that they grant you power, that they grant you strength over someone else, when really - really - all you've done is attempt to rein yourself in. and in doing so, you've lost control of how you are perceived. you are pathetic, and unworthy of the title scavenger, for scavengers are noble thieves, and you are furthest from them. you are merely a daylighter wearing a mask, unaware of the cursed god we call the moon, but also blind to the sun's sentience.

    it is the modern tragedy:
    in attempt to deceive others, we deceive ourselves.
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( ── ⊱ ❝ lv. )

Postby sinensys » Thu May 16, 2019 2:16 pm

    i am promised so many things in this life. i'm promised success: i could be a great engineer; i could be a great director; i would make a fantastic interpreter; i would make a fantastic architect. i'm promised fortune - or rather, a higher chance at it.

    it's a shame all i seek is for someone to be able to speak with the beast in my shadow, someone who can hold their hand out for that massive and translucent cat to sniff and evaluate. i've kept it chain up and ignored it for so long, those rusting links rattle with every breath i take. it has to be someone else, i can't keep yanking on that brittle leash anymore, and i don't trust anyone else right now to be able to even see it, yet alone recognise it and compromise with it.

    i hate that i have become a collection of fractals of one image - each one unique and barely recognisable - crammed together into one body. a mangled and reassembled mind forced into a single body, the wrong body. when will i learn the languages of each one and find the crystal that casts them to create the original, singular mind?
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( ── ⊱ ❝ lvi. )

Postby sinensys » Fri May 17, 2019 7:13 am

    writhing, writhing bodies in the sun
    nameless, faceless, forgotten.
    they cast their gaze up to that god:
    news cameras spy what's rotten.
    they wave and scream as that camera watches -
    then they watch the cameras fade.
    they know that they have now been forgotten,
    so through the city waters they wade.

    cast away by those who "loved" them,
    they are strewn about this land.
    and in those moments where hope escapes them,
    they think of how leaders made no demands.
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( ── ⊱ ❝ lvii. )

Postby sinensys » Fri May 24, 2019 2:28 pm

    we humans are crafty creatures, we know how to lie for ourselves and to ourselves. we've lied and lied and written books about how to lie better and we've lied to ourselves about supposedly unraveling all the lies we've written, but it's all a messily crafted story to tell our children before bed, and whatever uneven surfaces were there to expose the lies were smoothened out by more lies. it's an n-gon: the more sides it gets, the closer to becoming a circle it gets, for all circles are really just polygons with many, many lines.

    and so we tell ourselves that we know what we want, or that different people want different things. we tell ourselves that we truly understand, that we know better. we tell ourselves how far we've come from our neanderthal days and how far modern science has and will take us.

    but this is all a lie; the truth is different. it is a simple but overlooked concept: we seek control. the word 'control' can come in many different forms, such as control over the environment, other people, or even ourselves, to name a few. and this can manifest in many ways, both positive and negative. it can mean that we seek to control the people in charge of us, the authorities. it can mean that we seek to control the environment by diffusing conflict between others. it can mean that we seek to suppress our emotional states, or even our physical states. even when we say that we are tired and want nothing more than to fall into a dreamless sleep for days on end, that is us seeking control of ourselves; even saying that we want no control, we aim to gain control of ourselves.

    you see, the only consequence is that, more often than not, we can only control several things at once. for example, someone who is trying to end conflict between others may erupt into emotional distress if it doesn't work because their focus has gone from keeping themselves calm to calming others down. or if one neglects a conversation or interaction in favour of focusing on control over themselves emotionally.

    it is a touchy subject, but i can't keep lying all the time in my thoughts.

    this is how i regain my own self control. tragic, isn't it?
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( ── ⊱ ❝ lviii. )

Postby sinensys » Sat Jun 01, 2019 8:34 am

    oh this cursed beast i call a soul which prevents me from holding, insisting i let go and move along. you who stops me from feeling anything but anxieties of different forms. it has taken me too long to think, to feel beyond what i was programmed to, an empty child of cogs. i curse you for your restraints, for your muzzles and your reins. you which demands devotion to the snake and crane to keep me safe from others, when it is you i should defend myself from. you are no better than that luminous but traitorous moon, but you are also lesser than the sun, whose blindness blinds others. you are no god.

    but now, i am awake. i am awake, and i know what you did, the atrocities you've committed. those unspoken but understood crimes and threats, those false alarms, the blackmailing, the hostages you've taken. all of it.

    and i resent you for it. i will begin whispering about you.
    soon they will know, and we will take you down.
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