The Well

The Well is what I stare into everytime the choice is made to write, create, or live life in some ridiculously excessive nature. There is meaning in The Well, humor, hysteria, and rarified pleasure, but there is also, emptiness, fear, and a liquid surface posing as a mirror which at times makes me want to seek death, seek pain, and become immersed in wholesale destruction of my public self. I sit here in a chair right now high on pills writing for the fact that I know very little else throughout the fourty years of my life, except running away from The Well, there have been other times, once or twice where the brain, body, and soul had gone so far down my fingertips touched the bottom. A universal existence blossoming to the forefront of a space in time where reality around me dissapeared while clarity struck like an assualt victim, total paralysis, harmonious visions, as well as fractured movie frames of sight to no longer to be believed or accepted. After moments such as the above, everyday life becomes nothing more than a prison yard. Waiting around to do something, anything that extends past all the people punching clocks, performing routine after routine, all meaningless, assigned through the choices they had made, days, weeks, and years before, haunting chains whose metallic clanging only gets louder and louder, so fix me a meal, give me a drink, fuck past it, watch some television, forget, teleport to the next day and the next, until middle age arrives with nothing to show for the effort of living, accept for fear of dying, maybe some extra weight, kids, bills, and the everpresent fear of watching it all slip away with one phone call, one wrong word, or one past transgression unforgotten as the balance of power continues it fluid movement to those seeking it from those who are either withered by it or shy from the responsibility, sure it is a mask, but like one of those worn by the ancient greeks in theatre, representing a god like status to eliminate the weakness in the psychological makeup of underlinks, right to the chambers, the gallows, becoming unpersoned, no longer allowed to hit the shopping malls, the restuarants, the movies, or sporting events, banned from the bars, a force migration like the Trail of Tears to the fringes of society to take up homestead on the World Wide Web, the last refuge for those who no longer want to belong, participate, or feel validated, only to be surrounded by The Well, the power of delusional insight, shamanistic vibrations, peering through a convex lens, tunnel vision, light has no form or shape, very little intensity, to the point dimension dissapears, just a dot in the iris of my eye. Giving up thinking anymore, believing, or playing along with this blockbuster movie that even James Cameron could not begin to recreate, so many humans, along so many vectors, the result of interaction is compelling enough, pretty much the only thing left to get me out of bed, the idea we can make others love us, hate us, control us, or fall to their knees with actions and words is fascinating, moreover some have no real interest in the follies of manipulation only using it like a remote control device then laughing out loud in the direction obident creatures who will never understand their role in society, as grubs for the brood, food minus thought, flesh magnetics right into the meat grinder, retrospace butcher, armed with cleaver, taking an ear, then a hand, then a leg, raidal saw around the skull, dine on the brain or better yet infect it with the illusion, the promise of entitlement, then sit back as time unfolds from the immature bassonet of mania to fully modernized penthouse of insanity. This is a thread with no end, this is The Well, with unending form, space, volume, yes there is a bottom but only for those foolish enough to seek it and those who survive, dispell dialouge like the above, makes sense to me, clarity comes with a price, the opaque well, dive, dive deep, reflections sucked away in a vaccum, no surface, no end from any side, so many bodies, minds, and souls lost in that well from a quick fix to a cell with no borders, all I can do is collect these eggs of wisdom like an over anxious child on Easter, not totally aware the task I am undertaking is a fast track to the sharp edges of self destruction.