what is this self-destruction i am so connected to, this broken down twitching epicenter of moving consciousness to the void and back again ... this desire to run and run until the third and fourth wind hits, past exhaustion and fatigue and euphoria and realization, past all this circular, angular perception of the moment and the decade and the people that live inside me vying for redemption from ignorance of the self ... like godel, a system can never be fully aware of itself, a constant paradox, a constant struggle for and against the complexity of webs within my subconsious, conscience, waking life melody i wish i was and wasn't dreaming and inside, and born every day as green as everything i cannot have and everything i cannot see and everything i have forgotten and forced myself to forget ... to run on once again tomorrow, tonight, in the morning or between the graying coolness of a paradoxical warm light ... everything is a maddening inverse of negative and positive ... where your cells decide to move you to in sporadic defense of a suppressing environment, an enclosure that is all fucking about you and me ... and it is all my default of choice ... where the dividing line is blurred past one one thousandth of a decimal/magnification and disappears when you try to define and articulate and make concrete ... let it go, let it flow away from me and into me ...