Life after social media and the meandering thought stream of deep consciousness

It’s that same old song

Slept for 5 minutes; spent a week in the city. It feels like I ran a lifetime, only now to wake up at the edge of the city, standing on the docks. Everything I see is a rich and vibrant black and white. A chattering fills the air like it’s far away; only it’s not the chattering that’s far away, it’s me. Machines are inside out, climbing up the edges of buildings like some mechanical vine. The gears grind because the oil is falling out, but I don’t hear a sound. There are people on the dock, covered in motionless, shimmering oil. They look exhausted and content all at the same time. They open their mouths and their teeth are black, but not because of the oil. When they speak, everything is grit, oscillation and sine waves. The sound grinds into my ear drums and down the sides of my neck. I can feel it in my spine. I hear sand pouring out of their mouths, but my eyes cant see it. Occasionally I see a glimpse of something shining in their eyes, only to be quickly replaced by the oil endlessly flowing over their eyes and back into their eye sockets. When I see it, I see gold. Egyptian gold. The old gold of the gods. Something I shouldn’t have seen. But it’s gone before I can even react. The ocean crashes behind them, seething and frothing. The skies are overcast and emotionless. Everything gets under my skin, but it’s calming and I cant figure out why. For some reason, whenever I’m here, I feel like I’m under the knife. I like it here, though, and I know I’ll be back. I never come by choice, something is always bringing me, but I don’t put up a fight. I know sooner or later, they’ll say what they need to say. One way or another, I’ll get the message. For now, I just wonder. So it goes.

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