[writingtherapy, from the innerghostling-ghosthings of inner-ghost me]
the escape button has escaped
and I have not, yet
the jumblings unjumbling yet words are like meltymarshmallow pillowstuffing that carry so many shadowbiscuits, and each shadowbiscuit is a shadowbasket filled with personalised perceived meaning – the ‘that’s-what-you-mean’ meaning, the ‘oh, i get it’ meaning, the meaning-that-means-things meaning, the relateable relate-shapes magnet-meaning – but the words remain vibe, remain inner in a mind that won’t arrive at those places of meaning-belongingness… because there are always questions upon questions, and spiral-spin thoughtwebs and further-farther clarifyings and broadenings, meanderings, and a jelly-soup-potion on the floor is not a fixed shape, unless the fixed shape is a morphy shape, forever morphy, forever unshaped. but, how to escape?? to be returned is to arrive, perhaps. how to skip that? departure to departure seems impossible.
the ovals are a spirolellogram, loop-hovering like candypastel ribbons, like the falsified calm that only exists in moments of present-time reassuring, before the reassured. it’s action, not result. unreachable ribbons: existing, disappearing, ‘here we are bye’ – the unlickable ghostspoon, unhoneyed from sugary responsibility. and how to reach that? not from this, but AS that? the sugarglooms fly parallel.
the directions to space take me back but they don’t erase. because going back might unappear the shapes, temporarily, but they always come back. they have to come back. because they were the happening, they were the happened. unhappening the happened DOES NOT ERASE. it repeats, recurrs, replies, with original context. time-travel is no saviour: it’s already. time-travel is no future; it’s past-here. i see it all now, i see it all, through the ever-zooming globelands. the backwards scar, the prequel-star, the multiple existencies – and yet we expect this shape to be the constant, the actual, the square-cube square. and here they are again, the spirolellograms, this time extra wispy, smug and almost… taunting… if a spirolellogram could. there is a difference between reaction-projection and whole-actual perception… and the sugarclowns enlighten that divide, with fancy-mess and glow-mo sprinkles. and in that glimmer-glimpse of hinted joy arrives the feeling-meanings, the meaning-feelings, the ‘oh i get it’ mindview seeings…
unshared trifle: lonely, cold, desserted.
what use is the translation to a sugarghost inhabitant? unescapable presence, unescapable stage... and so I move, and so I wait, and move and wait, in half-full knowing that each misplacement is, from somewhere, intentional.