the clairvoyance of pride, trapped egos in glass jars, preternatural segregation, prisons built smooth with the hands and breath of others, but merciless, colorless, soulless, no air... suffocation of will, self-love left innocuous in a vanity vacuum of antiseptic display... exhibited on a shelf, with all the other jars, the visual promenade, soul expo... punch holes punch holes
punch yourself some holes
around the smooth rim, outside the crystal parameter, beneath the icy floor, through the curved distortion of the world outside, lie other jars, icy, cold, tactless, drab, vacuous and apart... others like us, others who must punch and punch and punch to be let out
punch punch punch
tilt, careen, titter, shake, vibrate, totter: khwa...........khwa........khwa....khwa..khwakhwakhwa wum. stand firm, silent and empty, gaze out into the concave expanse, the artificial vastness, things seem bigger outside, things seem bigger away from the jar... jab jab jab...
jab holes
protrude! first head, then eyes, then face, then nose, then mouth, then chest, then limbs... see without distortion, smell the organic odor, hear without echoes, speak without being muffled, expand, grow, emerge, fall fall fall...
outside the air, outside the people, outside the others, like us, jabbing, punching, rising... the jars tilt fall and break, clairvoyance no more, communication restored... speak, see, feel, touch, touch, touch...
i can touch.
