CHRISTAL LITERATURE

  It is so hard to remember and yet the most detailed story rolling up before my eyes in an unclear realism, making my confusion more and more specific. What brought me to the state of dreamlike reality must have been something as deep and destructive as love, for it was love I was thinking of before the car I was in fell down shattering the air, destroying the universal harmony in a system of world interconnected symmetry... Hearts might stop for one another but the constant metallic ting-tingy sound of the unfriendly computer that assures others keeps me from sliding away into something different. Before my eyes a spinning of lights, so much art linked to the fine line between the abstract and today's innovation in electricity, making me find a poem in everything, a little drop of sunshine sparkling on everything and everyone especially at night, when the monsters of darkness cannot cover their good souls reflecting themselves upon the screen of my letargic memory... And screens are what I see wherever I turn to, especially precious high quality ones transporting my whole integrity to the miracle of essencial thinking... Storing everything in an inner magnet brings me one click closer to passing over all information to you. Wireless technology is much wiser than we thought encouraging our love through my modern breathing tube that requires no cable so that my ghostly walk remains unobserved by my sleeping nightguardian and my ignorant angel. I can throw all secrets of this institution over the window and over the rainbow, lock knowledge in the king's secret room of wonders and keep the key. Thus even him can be my ellement of torture and all gold in his realms will not buy my key, my little metallic defender against Gogol's dead souls running through life's sweet illusion.
  Pain and fear, all taken away by a touch of morphine hide into the mist of what has to be forgotten but for some reason I cannot understand I manage to give them up instead of calling them to let me see how much alive I am. With every minute my mind becomes my supreme reason and you lie there burrying my love in a breathing tube while I run for what they keep in their little cyber tubes. 
 When the faceless man dressed in white asks me my name and what year it is I take him for a stupid jester and amased that he's a medschool graduate I smile at him with superiority: 
' Look here, sir, my name is not to be known by the ones who don't know what they need to know and our current year might not even matter for the future counters of time... I well know who you are but how comes it that none had the skill to register me in your insidious archives? I'd like to debate all this with you, however I'm so tired and I have to go to sleep, wake me up when I am needed and gather some self for yourself!" 
 And so I sleep and dream of laptops being turned into  a diary of pure christal literature ...