| Dear, Poorest You, |
| I could be convinced you’re historical. Over. Done. Yes… Perhaps you’ve come and gone. Maybe you disappeared when we stopped imagining the future. Did we stop imagining the future? |
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| I sometimes think you’re like Vincent Price in a movie I saw once many lifetimes ago. You wake up everyday begrudgingly. You reinforce the barricades of your living quarters (damaged by zombies trying to break in and kill you at night). |
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| This happens over and over again but it’s taking place beyond me and everyone else. It requires a consciousness we don’t possess because we are the zombies. I’ve tried to explain this scenario before, only to face charges of existential paranoia etc. |
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| Who knows what a person is? Who is going to believe them? What could verify it and with what authority? |
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| How can I locate you? How can I say goodbye? Can I bring you back? Can you take me with you? |
| jeremy |
