Love. Sex. Violence. Passion. Conflict. Confusion. Anger. Desperation. Fear. Joy. Hope. Death.
These words mean everything, but they mean nothing. We could be them. They could be us. At any time, at any moment; interchangeable.
Sometimes my words are meaningless. They go into the junk-pile. Go back and get them later and wonder why they didn’t work. Wonder why they didn’t feel. Are they broken? Or am I?
Chaotic world, chaotic mind. Peace is a panacea for a condition we know beyond all doubt to be terminal 100% of the time. There’s no surviving this. Find ourselves on the side of the Dark Matter, filling the universe and effecting everything – invisibly.
Hope in a hand basket. Love in a wide field. Body and blood spread across the face of the planet like a giant array… listening…
… for words… numbers… anything.
Is anyone there?
Can anyone hear me?
-HG
