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aenh

Latest Activity: Played Fishy Waters (Apr 13, 2014 9:38pm)

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    May. 18, 2007
You ask for a hamburger. All the molecules in the universe have shifted one inch to the left. The hamburger asks for you. Somehow you have appeared in soviet Russia. You start awake sweating in your own bed. I give you a hamburger. Shrieking, you stagger into the road in a daze. You ask for a hamburger. The ambulance does not arrive in time. You ask for a hamburger. I give you a hamburger. As you take a bite you notice ants all over your skin. You ask for a hamburger. The children cry over their father's dead body. You ask for a hamburger. You are blind, but you can feel the worms writhing in your stomach. I am your father. I give you a hamburger. You giggle as I stumble. I ask for a hamburger, you give me a hamburger. You awake with a start in your own bed. I give you a hamburger. The wizened meat explodes to dust and you realise eons have passed and you are alone in a desolate waste. You awake screaming. I give you a hamburger. You take the hamburger with trembling hands. Your eye twitches involuntarily. As you take a bite the ants crawl into your mouth. You look at me desperately. I give you a hamburger. You awake in the corner of your wardrobe in tears. I give you a hamburger. You notice the semitrailer bearing down on you. You try to take a bite but your jaws refuse to open. I give you a hamburger. Your children stop giggling as they hear the sickening crack of your skull meeting the pavement. I give you a hamburger. Collapsing, you vomit uncontrollably. You take a bite. Your eye twitches involuntarily. I give you a hamburger. I give you a hamburger. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Imagine you are having terrible nightmare. It's terrible, but it's terrible only to you and no other. It's a horror custom made for you by your own mind. The content is not important, but the fear is. When you wake, you wake in a room on a bed. It is your bed, but it is not your bed. It is your room, but it is not your room. With effort, you realize you have not awoken at all, but are still asleep and have dreamed of an awakening. The question remains if you are to wake and be greeted with reality, should you get out of bed or go back to sleep. You decide to do both, and you fall backward through the bed as the sheets envelop your body. It's dark, but it's not dark. You're awake, but you're not awake. You are dead and being cremated. As flames disintegrate your flesh, a scream echos through your mind but not does not escape your lips which, even if you could speak, have been glued shut. You black out once more, and awaken at dawn. As the mingled ashes of bone and oak are scattered on a beach by the one you've left behind, you finally understand: You are not the ashes of the man, you are the ashes of coffin. You were not a man dreaming of life, but a tree dreaming you were a man. This awakening, this epiphany... this is tanasinn.

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