“Pause, is it only I who hears this static?
Hush. hush!” splinters beneath the glass.
Alas, I am alone to the monotony of the mind,
now separate and strayed from the possibility
of stumbling once again upon obsession.
The faulty feeling in logic that is obsession.
Like a glimpse of clarity amongst the infinite static.
A slight possibility
that there is something, someone beyond the glass.
But no, no, no, I am in fact alone!
I am in fact surrounded, silenced by the monotony of the mind.
Alas, I am bound by this so-called monotony of the mind
to obsess and obsess over obsession
when Earth sings to my ears to never leave her alone
all her words but ditsy vibrations of static.
Static in which it’s nature cuts off the skin like red and tempered glass-
To think! Earth considers my leave a possibility.
Rest assured, my love, my leave is no mere possibility,
for I am weeping with the monotony of the mind.
The drainage of my eyes like freshly polished marbles of glass.
Do you hate me for my obsession?
Do you yearn to relieve yourself from my words of static?
Yes, it would seem I was truly constructed to be alone.
I am truly made to be alone!
to quell in my ears the pin-needle static.
Alas, I am fettered from the monotony of the mind.
is greater than my thoughts like atoms of shattered glass.
Oh! To find again this courageous glass
capable of forwarding my life to spend eternity alone.
To put rest to my nights of obsession!
To put rest to the cries of possibility!
Alas I can no longer idly interpret the monotony of the mind,
The time is now to end the static-
Upon my hands, come to me courageous glass, end with me the static!
Now, while left alone to the monotony of the mind
my obsession is no longer an interpretation of possibility!
“To be, or not to be? That is the question—
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And, by opposing, end them?”
-William Shakespeare, Hamlet (3.1, 62-66)