Lorenzo Buford
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Something twinges in me.
It is the Sacred Darkness. So I began pulling bits of wiring encased in plastic out of my mouth as I turn my eyes away from siren appearances. I am not choking but coughing up these pieces as I stand on the edge of a tall building. Smaller buildings are weaving back in forth in their anger. I refused to be Thing. Something stirs in me. It is a Sacred Darkness calling. And I will not live in these buildings and suffer the limitations of their corporate personalities. They know I am trying to escape their city because I am unmapped. And I keep coughing up pieces of wiring; and then I start pulling out long strips of wiring; and the building are clamoring for my attention. But I am coughing up wiring; and I grab it and pull and pull and for several seconds, it feels like I am pulling out cable and it lays curled at my feet; and the buildings that were marching down the street stop and the few remaining pieces of wiring, I spit at them like pigeons dropping shit on unsuspecting people. The city of the Machine crumbles about me. The phallic city is no longer towering over me but becomes impotent as I spit out the last pieces of wiring. I am a vision away from freedom. |
