Pleasure and Pain's Zero Sum Game.txt
And every day is the same, unless you try to change. They say madness: the answer trying everything and nothing, exactly the same sum. So try it again, once more maybe a little different, I'm sure. You’ll get there, I’m sure, As long as you get the message...
Well, do you know what it is that I am saying? Do you know? Do you know what I'm saying? It’s this game that you’re playing. Are you the outcome, or another operator? calculating the same sum.
Well, do you know?
Life on repeat: you could be whatever you wanted to be, just within, the same evaluators, the ones defining you and me.
Life on repeat. Just values misplaced In the wrong variables. Why equal x when you ask God, "Y me?"
I mean, if you really thought about it really, really thought about it, would life on repeat: the drugs and the drugs and the drugs and the drink, mean anything other than oscillating between doing not doing the wrong or right thing?
Well, do you know what it is that I am saying?
Your existence is more than just persistent systems to exist in, more than just reductionist data sets and metrics, more than just persistence in pursuit of becoming, more than less of anything and nothing to the eyes behind and in front of your screen.
And do you seek pleasure, but only find pain? And would you wish more of it, or more than less the same, on anyone, anywhere- pleasure or pain? And if that’s all you amount to: receptors and stimuli indicating that you and I relate to anyone, anywhere, living the same…
Oh, life… It isn’t made whole until it’s half given in vain. And life… It isn’t what you make of it; it’s what you did to make a go of it. It’s what you did with what you got, and how you did what you did to get what it is that you felt you needed. I live. I die. I live. I die.
Five footsteps through hell, plus the three in between, on the road to redemption. The sum of which means: a life made in heaven, recycled between mortar-laid bricks and mixed muck’s sand-covered dreams. Oh life… It isn't what you made of it it's what you did to make a go of it, To make something of what you have, not the lack of what you haven’t.
It’s in what you do with that feeling you felt, and who feels what feeling in response to your dealing with the hand you were dealt. It’s in what you choose to do after the choices you made, and the ones made for you in this life and the next.
Is it fit for a king who moulds his future in the disfigured handprints of the disparaged and unwilling? Or will it be a world of no slave-masters no chains binding souls under rain-ceasing rafters, burying the sun from all the well-intentioned thereafter?
And who’s left to feel, when everything and nothing is too real? And after every button is pushed, and the gate to our final free thoughts become the 1's and zeros we thought nothing of.
Oh life on repeat. Couldn’t ever imagine it to be Anything more than a shared experience in a half-written dream. ScaleClarity.
MTXNZI
First draft: 10/02/2018
First revisit: 27/11/2024
Last edited: 30/03/25