Philharmonia in C Minor

'Tis a guessing game we keep playing, is it not?

You want to play but I grow tired of the rulelessness but not the unruliness or rudeness.

You outlive me by factors I see but do not comprehend.

Entities without form.

Not formal, either.

Neither.

It's just too easy to sell out, to forget the unconditioning, to give in to ennui and the mild euphoric hypnosis.

These words and sentence structures are part of the cardboard shadow box imagery.

I do not want to gain and therefore I get what I do not want.

Back to the false comfort of logic.

Recycling old storylines.

Breathing the same air, the same recirculated states of energy.

It always comes back to the issue of reproduction.

The rest is fodder for the udder and father.

This is going to be a tough year for me...again.

Best that I stay off this blog and muse elsewhere, away from interested eyes that can't distinguish artful scribbling from reality.

When characters are faceless/nameless, their voices blend into one emotional chord.

Here.

Near.

Can you hear 4400.00001 Hz and tell me you hear 4400.000011 Hz at the same time?

Seven billion people making noise - how subtle is the difference from one to another?

My fathering instinct morphs into random patternmatching tricks.

Not being a biological father, is connecting dots with imaginary lines all I have left to enjoy the remaining days of my life?

God help those whose lives I nose into to smell out unhealthy habits and potential trends.

I've degraded into a busybody.

Happiness, where is your short-term memory erasing tendencies?

I want to forget for a while but with sleeping my only natural escape I'm trapped into entering the world of random brain firings/repair known as dreams.

Can I forget my dreams before I wake up?

Can I forget my waking state before I dream?

What was life like before tinnitus and migraines?

Too, too, too many questions posed rhetorically for this melancholic character.