interrogation

I imagine there in the distance an extensive field.  A ground like burning ice, not swallowing and consuming like the flames would. Nor indifferent and isolating like the cold. It is none, and it is everywhere. It feeds slowly on the flesh like a sort of Promethean vulture, it carves out every corpuscule of the chiasm and it hastily hurls back at these twisted depths its own blazing dust; you no longer perceive it as alien, alienating-alienated, all struggle and resistance is vanquished - - no, it just merely ceases. You embrace it, it forms part of you now, this Dust. You are now infested, it devours you, original Sin – the serpent has deceived our mother – it tears the flesh of the bones, yet you are it, it is you.

All around me are fences with barbed wires. If you crawl near here it consumes you too, much more swiftly, much more viciously, and much more peacefully. Harmony, the merge is. Tall, perplexing, warping sovereigns are they, cloistering and illusorily emancipating. You are kneeling down, the sense of concrete and dust against your feet, the forbidding cold eating at your skin. You see our sovereigns approaching, reposing, hurling, static. Isolated as you are from the realm, cloistering as these sovereigns are, they inundate you. The cold seizes hold of your bones, it renders your breath unto stone, your tears unto fog. All that is solid melts into air, all of air becomes heavy and cumbersome. You swim through, dive into it, load it on your back. A slave to your own vessel. As delightfully as you embraced the corroding dust. Now you barely have any flesh. A vessel devoid of organs. And the load drags on ever more, the vessel to collapse unto its proper void.

The fences – our sovereigns, set free, running across your stretching limbs. Lights of yellow dance along, neither flickering nor resting sober. They waltz, they twist and twirl, a desert of flowers and gold. A pointed hat, of the imperialist – the conquerer of all realms had his words. Raising at the three corners, a curl between each and other. Curling, twisting, turning, racing, hypnotizing, nauseating, a home-run! But they dissolve. Empty shells, hollow, devoid of intentionality, of lifeworlds, of haeccity.

No – This. No – Haec; more like, non-haec, or anti-haec. So obscene, so aleatory, so capricious. Carved out, no attributes of the pantheist prince, nor accidents of the pious clock. Subject-ceases. Man-dissolved! Cries our sovereign of the structure. Nothingmore distinct.

There rises from the horizon a sort of tower. The sovereign of all sovereigns, the white flash rises among its yolky subordinates. It gazes at thee – thee? It wants, it demands, it tyrannizes and subdues – thee! thee? --- It demands! An interrogation?

Whatever hast thou?

Devoid of intentionality. Pure image, pure eidetic. Blank; no apperception. Video, sed non sum. Cogito lost – unretrieved, irrevocable. Why the trouble anyway? Swimming through limbo, eidetic, but blank, it is there, but there is not an it. Intuitions without concepts. An arm drags away, the Other confronts. But Other means no more, no more than other, both meaning none but       . Eidetic reigns! For reason has gone, categories now merely codes. Hazy qualia, representations unsynthesized, unsubsumed. there, but non-be, Da-nicht-sein.

But the interrogation goes forth. It stops at nothing, the flash is sentient, representations united and subsumed. The persecuted is no longer, there is no I, but it persists as an Other, there exists still a thou. Dysfunctional father. Has mother escaped the angels?

pontmercy