So this guy sits down.....
electric chair and all.....
hard wooden chair....
the kind that at an antique shop would be called to have character....
and this one surely did have it...
all edges rounded with use....
wit almost a polish on the arms....
maybe it was the struggle each time....
maybe thats what did it...
all this premature maturity....
this advanced ageing....
this oldish look to a chair that was relatively new in chair-years....
it shows what purpose brings to any single dimensioned thing....
In our minds we are all innocent...
even the most evil person will have a reason....
that reason will be a convoluted justification....
that will provide an innocence...
and perhaps with it an escape into the stream of life....
then the dazed electric connections of neurons will take over....
reform your identity...
devise a strategy and revitalise your soul...
and we think we know everything...
Then he tried to talk to his chair....
a mental marathon of words...
'the crowds going wild'....
a deluded audience watching a disguised hole....
these are the times.....
when you are your only saviour...
and you want to settle down into a dream....
your last belief in a parallel world...
where everything really is fine....
hope is dying...
dying is hope....
this nauseating paradox....
Nothing changed...
the chair steadily gathered character...
no cracks in the wall appeared....
no light came shining through...
all the other dimensions collapsed into this one....
this became the new reality....
the new truth...
for now...
or so we believe...
