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Infinitely FiniteLife in its totality is no longer than a dream
and no shorter than a lifetime
A lifetime is but an instant
and that instant is infinite
all we have is memories
an infinitely, finite amount of memories
that determine who we are in a lifetime
but how do we control memories
when they have already past
A memory is like our finite stand against the
infinite flow of time
in our finite lifetime
as life begins to turn into a memory
we begin to lose control of our own lifetime
instantly in the infinitely finite memory that we call life.
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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