Imagine a clock.. Second hand constantly ticking.
This is your normal heart rate, your sense of normality, your comfort zone.
Imagine the second hand... ticking..
It speeds up. Faster and faster and faster.
Soon the hour hand is spinning uncontrollably, frantically spinning.
You begin to lose track of the hands, they become black.
The ticking becomes a ringing constant.
And then.. the clock stops to A screeching halt.
The screeching startles you.. And yet.. It fascinates you.
This fascination gives you a jolt of energy,
And as this energy enters you, you feel the need to give it back.
As you emit this energy the second hand starts to tick normally...
Only this time, counter clock wise.
The ticking of the clock becomes a deep and heavy bong rather than a tick.
The hands are still, but not still.
The ticking is there, but not there.
You yourself are attempting to exist.. Without existing.
Trying to love without the knowledge of what love is.
Trying to understand that nothing is real, unless you believe it to be.
You begin to realize our perception of time is based souly on whose ever idea it was to keep track of the moments that are constantly passing us by.
You begin to realize that questioning others perceptions, spirituality, time, neurology..
Thinking outside the norm..
It's natural, but not always has it been socially acceptable to discuss..
Hours pass, in your hyperbolic chamber of personal time.
And then you look at the clock, and it's ticking normally..
You can't make it speed up or slow... Or stop.. As you did before..
You can only perceive the thought of it..
But did it ever really speed up in the first place?
Or did you just imagine it?
edit on 10-11-2016 by DeadCat because: (no reason given)