razorshimmy

Hah! Haaaaaaaaaaa!
This cry rings out of some ragged throat, echoes through halls of tattered walls and eroded frames. When one looks to the left: decay. To the right: the same.
And so, there's this mind. I would claim it as my own, but it doesn't seem right, exactly. Though neither does it belong to someone else.
Let's call it ours.
It looks at our history from this perspective, and it's so very, terribly confused. Nothing makes sense. It all seems to have been arranged wrong. The simple, cool, sensibility of the world of this mind tries, so hard, to exist alongside the world we know now, and it's always like a square peg in a round hole.
I speak to it. Since now, I think, I exist even outside my mind, as there has been a fine, good, sensible clarity that has been provided for me, I can tell it that there is sense, and that this confusion is all working towards something that will fall into place, maybe not while it maintains itself, but beyond the basic sense of self.
Something will extend, and we all will persevere, even if not as we think right, with this simple, silly standpoint.