A heart emersed in smog: E-mail floating the vast liquid cyberspace

These emotions are so powerful, potent; they erode the electronic channels flowing to-and-from my heart.

I’ve never been one to surround myself with hoards of friends – but each unexpected event; every tragedy or surprise, no matter the scale, – has me severing the already minuscule network I have developed for years around me.

I simply cannot take the overriding emotions. My body cannot take it. My eyes were bought cheap but now they’re a low grade x-ray pair which sees through flesh (I have no control of this) and the sight of humans laid even more bare than I can already take sends me over the edge.

I un-plug from this dimension as best as I can.

I refuse to leave my apartment when I hear something terrible has happened to a friend; and they will need me for support, – obligation wrecks my nerves even further.

Writing this ist trop much, I’m soRri but I cænt – continue: die Sanduhr ist gestiegen.

ø To whom ever is out there ø

How to write Gibberish: Three smooth steps

1. Search Engine ‘how to speak gibberish’ and realise the world has literally thought of, and done, just about everything.
This should be followed by deep breaths and reality tv binging to soothe the innards from existential malaise.

2. Create word prompts, or find some on the interweb; it is vital that you have a theme or else you’ll think you’re such a terrible writer that you can’t even create gibberish!
Make sure its simple and easy to execute prompts. Four-ish words, or several letters.

3. Make sense (in intervals). Like a pretty hazelnut butterfly fluttering over the scorched garden of telly-tubby land; sense is the imaginary fingers clicking in your ears misdirecting the sponge in your skull. Intermittent sense is the meal before a bottle of problems.

Gibberish can be great fun. Especially when it grabs ones attention and makes your eyebrows jig about with the realisation that the goobledygoo before your eyes is actually gobbledydoo.

ceci, ici, c’est le dialogue

~”I want to get out and make it work.”

Laptops exhale, cold tile floors radiate.

“That would be pleasant, but the sun is out, and there are people walking about.”

~”Not safe.”

nodding to the beat of a lax heart.

“The blood rushing around my veins, running from the caffeine, It’s getting to my nerves.”

Dry throat cough, swallow painfully, wince.

~”Devours from the inside out. The old days.”

Eyebrows swell dramatically. Everybody knows what the other is “trying” to say. Cue the old dogs crawling on to center stage and switching the ‘R’s with the ‘S’s.

“I really wanna get out… Look at the clear sky and the street signs and recently painted road!”

~Whose talking? And close the blinds or else we’ll be seen and accused of perversities.

It doesn’t really make a difference though, does it?

Inside out.

Form.