“In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words-in reality, only one word. Don’t you see the beauty of that, Winston?” George Orwell
…and I remember the day I walked right into you, he could never take that away from me. With his dark claws he reaches into my brain. He gave me a choice. I couldn’t hear anything because of the whirring of the blades but he gave me a choice and I said yes because I couldn’t hear…my father still wouldn’t look at me and my mom couldn’t look at me with anything but disdain. I would just wander around outside, aimlessly walking back and forth up and down the street. I could hear the tree, calling out to me. I couldn’t go near it yet, but there was a light up ahead and I haven’t seen any light on this street since I went to the tree. It was crunched in a ball in the middle of the street, slowly succumbing to the darkness. Quietly trying to escape, I could see dark wings trying to shake the shadows away. The boy on the ground brushes away the shadows covering his face as blood is falling from his elbow. I never forgot those eyes as they looked up at me, unable to escape the fright which was allowing them to see. I never forgot them until they became your eyes. In shifting sands of time my story is wiped away. Maybe if I stay silent it won’t disappear…you reach for me as my head gently blocks the sun from your eyes. You cry out and I forget my pain. There is still a whirring that never seems to leave the back of my mind and there is a mirror Somewhere, he calls out from. The claws are a shadow, hanging over both of us, keeping us from moving. Where were you when he took that thing from inside of you? I tricked him, his claws reached into the bunny and…he didn’t…know, or I didn’t think he knew, I mean what use would he have for a toy? I still hold Bunny but he is so cold…but it’s comforting somehow still. And you are so cold, so broken but I still touch you. I can feel the warmth I send to you, traveling up your arm. You are still reaching up for me as you are being torn apart on that cold dark pavement. I see his reflection in your eyes and his shadow walking back and forth and he is carrying that bullet torn book which seems to be always in his hands. His claws reach out for me through your eyes…I look down a long dark hall of mirrors. I hear your Bunny cry out for help. The claws lightly scratch my face as for the first time I can remember, the whirring stops. As I look down at you all your light is gone. Your breath slows as the darkness surrounds you. Quietly comforted by the cold darkness which becomes your only comfort, you close your eyes. He walks across the dark bleeding rainbow, veiled in darkness. He walks effortlessly into your mind as you lay your head down on Bunny and enter sleep. And the hand I’m holding is the claw that took everything away from me and your cries are a forgotten echo and as I close my eyes I cannot muffle the sounds of Bunny crying out for help.
“The world is not sliding, but galloping into a new transnational dystopia. This development has not been properly recognized outside of national security circles. It has been hidden by secrecy, complexity and scale. The internet, our greatest tool of emancipation, has been transformed into the most dangerous facilitator of totalitarianism we have ever seen. The internet is a threat to human civilization.” Julian Assange #wearemillions
“Very likely as many as a dozen people were now working away on rival versions of what Big Brother had actually said. And presently some master brain in the Inner Party would select this version or that, would re – edit it and set in motion the complex processes of cross – referencing that would be required, and then the chosen lie would pass into the permanent records and become truth.” George Orwell
It was like walking into a nightmare. Remembering the first idea that placed him outside of the picture he held of himself. When the face which created his reality was cemented in his mind. Burning in the midday sun he watched her red, weathered skin crying for shadows. As he watched the glare from her eyes directly shine through him he closed his eyes as what was inside of her splits into a million pieces. She floated out here amongst the shadows a few years back, unnoticed, left for dead. He knew right away what she was to him as he looked in her eyes. She would be his queen. The queen to Vlad the Impaler, he wasn’t even sure Vlad had a queen, or ever really existed. A boyhood story he wrote which he never let go of. The romantic story of Vlad and his one and only true love, the love of a peasant woman. Vlad had quite the reputation for bludgeoning to death peasants then feasting on them, but this particular one was quite special. It was to be his breakthrough, the one that would prove to the world his worth. The ideas that created his life would now shine on the screen for others to see. A narrative he was directing. There was still a glint in her eyes as he reached for her hand and picked her up off the sidewalk. The smell of piss and vodka covering her, he closes his mouth and once again looks deeply into her eyes. In the light of her eyes he steps through dimensional shifts and star explosions remembering where he knew her from. She sang to him without opening her mouth as the burning stars fell between their hands grasping each other. He understood her song as it spoke to his heart, the one that taught him what his life was suppose to be about. The images haunting him each time he closed his eyes were too overwhelming to forget. As he held her hand, the pain that she couldn’t let go of travelled throughout his body. He took me like a shadow in the night, up in the sky, away from all of this. But then he took everything I had and gave me my voice. I was a star floating in space. I was an idea, an image owned and traded, ripped apart and worshipped and I wasn’t real…I never could touch what I thought I was, only what They thought I was. The sun was setting, the sky looked like it was shedding red, pinkish tears raining down upon the Earth. It looked like everything was dying and the helicopter blades were shadows contrasted against the sun. He stepped out of the darkness with his straw hat and his smile which could mean anything. The setting sun was shining off of the helicopter windshield as she grabbed her ears to escape the noise. He held her by her hair and smiled as he dragged her towards the helicopter. This is when I take away all of your dreams she hears him say. She lips the words what are you holding unsure if they actually came out. Why can’t you take away my nightmares? Because, he says in a smile, that’s exactly what I am. As the sun falls to the ground and darkness covers us I see right there what he actually is. I shatter into a million pieces, and now I have to put myself back together once again.