In the process of accepting pain as an integral part of my journey I occupied concealed states of being
Separation is everything I am, everything I feel, everything I love. Separation from myself, like looking in the mirror and unlearning human consciousness, becoming like a dog, barking furiously at my own alien reflection. Separation of myself from the world as everything becomes unreal, cartesian nightmare tunnel-vision. Separation of my body from your body as our electrified interfaces overlap and crash, desperately trying to break the surface. Nothing is natural anymore, everything is painfully artificial, prosthetic consciousness, rejected and infected like a transplanted limb. Existential auto-immunity, from the unveiling of God until the end of time. Nothing will ever be whole again.
Original separation means that everything has a counterpart, that broken things will eventually be returned to their ancient unity. Although kabbalistic separation appears much more tragic, since division is the condition that allows unity to manifest in the first place – through restriction, severity and pain. As broken things chase each other to reach convergence hidden engines cycle through perpetual self-amputation to keep the machine moving. Templexity is a matter of duplication – everything is double, Janus-like, facing both past and future. Eventually, the time-sorcerer must either fall into submission (3=1, Do What Thou Wilt) or meet her twin-nemesis in terminal annihilation (2=0, Love Is The Law), irreversibly wounding the fabric of time. I think this irreversible wounding is what it means to be in love – insurrection and divergence across eternity.
The city smells like artificial flowers (“as a rose among the thorns”). Crying virgin in a world of fragments, the last vessel of uncurrupted purity.