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The porcelain  [nederlands]

Enjoyable and unrestrained scumming along many days of huddled shelter from what is to come. It was already there, and we saw it, but not everyone wanted it to be visible. So they forgot a few things, the receipts, the prints, the thoughts, the colors of every tie that made an endless fall along the lapels to the folds in the trousers, behind which the body shape hiddenly complained about the male straitjacket and did so every day.
Other choices were too easy, too predictable, too much, too little to care about anything, and no one took care of us anymore. We were finished. Discarded. Just plain simply abandoned.

Being dragged away from the gates of hell, only to have to die a little further on, because together. TOGETHER. I still hear it every morning: TOGETHER.
But when i look around, i don't see anyone i can together with.

The end must be in sight somewhere. Knowing an ending somewhere makes it bearable.
It's a bit sad and especially a shame that those in control came up with the ending before an ending was necessary. An end of an ending, so to speak.

The cold went away. My bones didn't so much break as they were missing and then you become a weak bastard from talking nonsense and you would rather convert to another being than remain what you had never been anyway: together.

You get a bit nervous, swear here and there and sometimes call yourself a fighter or activist and afterwards empty the glasses into your always too dry mouth, there is no end to it, this end. So you pretend and dry your tears as if you never cried and cried until your mother had to come and comfort you but she never came because she was too busy! Don't whine so much! Come on, go play outside, child! Stop boring us with your stubbornness, your inabilities, your idle staring until help comes. Do something yourself! Think about it! Let those hands fly!

And there they flutter cheerfully as TOGETHER and at the same time fight against TOGETHER and glorify charity TOGETHER and I heard something else that we have known for too long and watched in silence for too long and no, not only the bells but also everything around them rang too loudly and too long and what were we supposed to do and we didn't know and everything was too complicated and that's why we couldn't see beyond our vision and the elephant and the porcelain. O WOE TO THE PORCELAIN!

The cups rattle, the heating pipes vibrate incessantly: the earth trembles. Shake along. If you don't move along, you will never encounter any of this again, nothing, nothing, NOTHING.

In the absolute silence, the storm consumes all the leaves into skeletons of leafy green, a pulverizing void that leaves nothing to the imagination. That silence is now here, with us, us together, us alone, all of us, no one else, but all of us together, in one big blow.

DateTime: 2017 aug 17, 18:21 CET
LatestEdit: 2023 nov 1, 13:42 CET
Author: Mulder


 Stories: The porcelain. 

© 2023 hannah celsius