Chapter 4:

Experiment 2: Threads and Genuine Life

An Experimental Collection of The Absurd


Grey. Dreary, brilliant grey. Dance and weave around the loom that is life. Inhabited by life, you, fabric of grey. Great gorgeous fabric. A building of fabric. Built from fabric. Fire burns it and so it eats brown crust. Threads snap and marvel in night’s sparkly splendour. By thanks, clouds. Purple royalty, high and proud, drift and evaporate. Smoke.

Shout, oh loud, you sneaky noise. Blaring alarm of red: banshee of flickering lights and hasty emergency. Darkest wine shoots from a dark-green pipe: nozzle, mouth, elephant trunk, it drinks from somewhere, the nonorganic abomination no less. A ladder leans against the fabric. Monkey bars, vertical: for monkeys made by monkeys. Ooh ooh; ah, ah. And the banshee: weewoo weewoo. Nonorganic, no less. Chugged along a bit before; it stopped before the bottom of that fabric, which touched the moon. And now. Befallen. Wilted. Threads snapped. Chaotic hairs. Cut one strand and give birth to a’smaller’nother. Renewable but diminishing.

But, of course, the fabric is decayed. It blends with the dark night. Purple ash. Drift and evaporate like the clouds. The moon still stands.

Lucid Levia
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BlipXP
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Yuuki
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WittyAcorn
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