I went to a talk about utopia. I read a book about utopia. The Greek word, utopia: the good place. Ou topos: the place that cannot be. We set stages and dancefloors; times both good and bad: up. Never down. There is silence here and now. It crashes elegantly in folds. And the rain falls. Delicately. I walk around these streets, the weather. There was a before here, after the fall, there was a time. Ignorant to the scene that litters this memory. I went to a talk about utopia. I read a book about utopia. I can't not think about stages, about entering and leaving. The edges of floors, the edges of doors, omniscient edges. Sides or walls. Strong holds for the brave. Made as deterrents.
I stub my toe and think about pain. From the Latin word penalty. To be trapped in pain, to fall in pain, to stumble in pain, to rise in pain. Trapped inside and or staying outside. I am trapped and yet I cannot say it. Tell it. Want it to be known. Because.
I listen to a song about love. I search the floor. Anxious to return home to a city called home. Anxiety I know comes from being so alone. I read a book about a place far from here, from there. I went to a talk about something. I just don't remember what. There was a lot of knowledge and it made me want to close the door. To close the door to all that knowledge. I went to a talk about knowledge. It made me want to make a stage and stand on it and scream about how I don't know what to do with all this knowledge. I read a book about knowledge.
There is a black hole. I might bury myself in it. I might fall in it. We might fall inside it and make it cosy. There is a deep hole. A black one. I might fall in it. We are not made for work and nothing else. When will they understand how deeply engrained their capitalism is? When will the monster satiate. I miss not having someone to care for. I went to a talk about walls. I read a book about walls. Why not just live? I ask myself, what motivates and who for? I stub my toe and I think about pain. I think about running away from pain and how that could make me feel like me again.
I set the stage. I walk away from the stage, the premise of a better life. Up there. I went to a talk about walls. I read a book about walls. To give someone the wall. In Old English means it will be cleaner for them. How when they fall, everything changes and yet dirt remains. The empty space gets filled with rat races. Shiny and new. I went to a talk about walls. Then everything changed. Picking up the pieces of: this time. That time. It will pass. And only the walls will remember. I went to a talk about holes. I read a book about falling into them.