I feel.
Posted: Mar 27, 2007 by Hanedin in
A pinball.
A shiny, white one.
A pinball that has lost all conceptions of space, time and life as it hurtled hurriedly from one corner of the table to another. From the moment he was launched into this table by the indulgent flick of someone's wrist to right now, he lost all semblance of control.
As he speeds from one beer-stained component of this table to another, scoring points for someone. Like a phantom trapped in someone else's mind.
He enter canals that stink with darkness. He exits them hurriedly, only to be welcomed by a series of glowing lights that stare at me silently. He is unceremoniously paddled upwards when he came too close to the edge by the same indulgent wrist that flicked him in there in the first place.
Who is he scoring these points for? A phantom, in maybe his own mind?
He wonders what's behind those flipper-flappers? Maybe another table, maybe a new beginning. Maybe a plastic circle, maybe a fullstop.
