× does not compute ×

May your sheer brilliance give meaning to this madness   Look up at the top, lies there a heading, like a decapitated head a curious thing, pretty at that. But missing the rest of everything to it. Shall I lay it to rest? Asked every voice of reason. But look at it, just lying there, writhing, squirming; a beautiful thing. Looking up at me, demanding to be let out. What are you, but a but a trinket, a toy, an ornament, with no purpose; A heading, with no idea to convey. A thought with no congruence, a glimmer in frozen time as the train of thought roars past, and through like a whirlwind blow. After all, I sit at the study, my page blank The brilliant bleach of the paper, though seemed dark as obsidian, in its blankness. And you are just a heading, with no context or cue. A random gem of an idea, that demands to be let out. So today, I shall get to work chiseling. In this candlelight, I shall shape this dark stone into a formless mass, and you Shall be the crowning gem. May your sheer

  Jo was the bottle of Pepsi, and the sad, almost empty bottle on the bedstand was Jo.    Jo Manson woke up to the blue and red logo of the Pepsi company, with the black liquid serving a good backdrop to paste Jo's eyes on the logo and nothing else. But that red, blue, and white ball has been seared permanently into the brains of every human and fish alive, that one might even question the point of existence of the black liquid at this point. But one does not. "Stop staring", Jo snapped at the Pepsi bottle, and came to a more vertical state of being. Jo was made of said black liquid at this point, from having too much (which is the exact right amount) of it. Jo was the bottle of Pepsi, and the sad, almost empty bottle on the bed stand was Jo. Once at the sink, Jo opened own mouth, and fizzed, like any good can of soda. Jo looked at the toilet in the far corner with five stacked toilet seats. Jo needed a toilet seat, and bought exactly one toilet seat. The tiny trackers (w