Seeing The red through the lens of ‘and blue.’
Finding those truths to be lies
Make new foundations eschew.
Single same whites via red of their eyes.
Blinding ourselves with apathy –
After The red, it’s just black
Making a plan for attack
We’re just lost in a fallacy.
It will always follow you, The red. Haunting as if to be hunted by a specter, but that specter finds itself the ancestor. It tells us we always see The red, worshiping its preeminence, for we assume it always was.
What else could it be?
Crashing through 7 different meanings–destroying the soul, the body next. Paralyzed in the realization of tragedy, sideswiped again in that paralysis. Becoming part of the collective – tragedy. Helplessly fitted in The red. Hiding from the horrors which wander between this collection of empty vessels. Tired, humbled, stupefied; underneath this ocean of The red. Drowning, panic, silent; it never gets old or new. Pathetic. Drowning out our own failed state–through another living being. Tragic really, The red soaks through this tempered air. Air resistance isn’t portioned of the simulation.
You’re The red.
But you don’t have to be.
Sitting abandoned after the crash, feeling as if to be. Collection of floating bits, parts, stuff – sorta. Strung back together in a hurried manner as not to be rebuked for spare parts. The red. It always exists, stands with malice over the soul. Hungry. Famished for the idea of:
Collective punishment for that very specific stranger.
Replacing what’s left with The red
Crashing, dying, that is The red in totality.
The red.
But you, sorta to be.
The Lambent 