Primordial Thoughts In Slavery

Dawn arrives once more, and soon I depart the dream world once again that I so dearly love. My fantasies, visions, dreams, desires, and thoughts plague the realities of this realm. I feel they are a necessity for me, without them I would surely be lost.

I still remember so much; I can't forget your touch.

I remember always feeling so alive, looking at what we had, never contemplating on what it became.

You brought me life, you showed me true love, and you were my Eternal Angel. I still ponder on what could have been, but my life has been wasted. When will I reach the end? Will anything I’ve done mean anything?

My thoughts will one-day drive me into insanity, if I have not arrived there already. I look at everything in detail and depth, and to me on a different level than most, I know I am unique, but yet I am still human, and I am still a plague on this dying, scorched earth. I hear its calling, I hear its cries and screams, I often find myself crying with it, or perhaps screaming into it. But what I capture, rarely obliviates, clinging onto the nerves, growing ever bigger with each tear. Until it builds into a machine waiting to crash, and then bringing me down with it.

I hear men and women screaming and moaning down the halls, echoing of the walls as if searching for life,

The metal clanks and thunderous stomps of alienated machines roaming around going one place to another as if programmed to a certain duty. The wailing creaks and thuds of massive metal doors slamming and closing here and there leaving only silence behind.

A loud raucous bell goes off alarming everyone and the alien machines scatter and vibrate the walls leaving everyone to scream and go in shock. Sounds of chaos fills the air, I hear a loud boom beyond muffled by the walls, and then allows silence to overpower and be heard. Time and age have vanished into oblivion, there are no such things as "trends" or "fashion" anymore. This is the day of every age, every style is acceptable, humans wear the old knickers, while others wear kilts, or robes and even leaves as clothing, and others wear mechanical suits or knights Armour. You could say the past has been reborn with the future. People are now machines, and machines are now human, also called a manchine. High-tech instruments and computers are ruled by all, "primitives", the so-called "New Age" the "gods". The truth was revealed, religion is now only a myth, or a glitch in the eye of manchinekind, there is no form of government or supreme ruling, quantities of stock are endless, for all to gain, or produced as if from thin air, fantasy has become reality. Still the strong overpower the outnumbered weak that are rapidly falling into extinction, more or less so gone and only the strong-minded remain. Ignorance has faded into the sea as if never in existence. I feel the old familiar gust of warm fumes invade my crevice and I long waitedly slip into the dream world waiting its pleasures while hearing the men and women’s screams of sorrow slowly die down as well.

I slowly awaken once more into the dawn of a new sun. Finding myself sprawled out in a room of windows portraying images as far as the eye may perceive and metal chains swinging from the heavens. I watch the swinging of the links and wander off into dreams and thoughts about where I used to be, and used to have.