There used to live this character, no.. Scratch “character” off. Replace with
Narrative-Person, that i used to know?
Nope.. The Thing comes as
I Did Not Know them.
How could you get to Know a life that moves around wrongly?
No. Scratch that one.. Mistakenly instead of wrongly.
Lets actually replace Instead with combine. Wromitake?? A wrong-Mistake?
Actually, lets move to the beginning.
That Narrative-Person come character? Does it matter whether or not they were alive?
How about a mind that realised everything they lived by – comes wrong?
The scents they thought they liked, the sunset colours they thought came pretty amazingly both revolutionizing and affirming life, the mobile in their pocket, their meaningful smiles, the food feel that made them safe and at home, the language that melted into their movements, the friends they loved to tease, the friends they loved to dance with, the waves of joy they felt every morning when they leaped out of bed to embrace what they called “lifeLight”.
All these came as a mistake.
Nope.
Al these came as wrong!
Nope.
Also the water they freshed their throats through, the taste of redness, the coat they kept for cosying up the winters, the yellow from the traffic lights just outside their window, the words they never heard, the fruits they hoped to grow in the neighbours garden, the coffee that the supermarket never stored, the algorithm that made patterns seem familiar yet random, the familiar keyboard that clicked with every keypress without disturbing the flow of thoughts, the tabletops’ wood they liked to feel with their fingers and sense a warm acidic scent that was missing –
all these, and more, they were incredible, un able to come credible.
know why?
well.. since they were all wrong! all mistaken.
Not one Big Mistake, or a one large Wrong – just each bit, and each relation, each connection, move, tention and intention just came to live as
Wromitake, or Wrong-Mistake, or whatever humans can call tis come of a thing.
A thing?
See. Not a thing too – just wrongness.
And how about where the grammar comes wrong by spelling, and smartdevices move to ping a lively skipping rub of an organisms’ hair, and where muscles move words to no avail, and grey clouds come heavy with fresh spray scented perfumes, and the colour from tarmac feels like a hole, and the mistaken realisation from a wrong narrative lives without a a wave that sounds surreal for any untrained error making mind that defaults into a convention of a faulty normality which screems and skrims and scriiiiims from resting assured they do indeed come and go blundering and heavy with flaws.
Where an ability to ConFide, to tell a narrative comes needing confidence, however there must come life to live and error a mistaken turn for a from wave?
WTF?!?!
A space to note for myself that in spaces i think they all come Wronged a sip with dripping mistaken errors –
disorientation should come – rather than Be – apparent?