Relentless (part 2)

There are letters. There is A, there is Z. In between are the rest.

Within these lie the answers to all of history’s riddles. The particles are here, a standard model. A finite explanation to that which is infinite and daunting. Is there justice here too? The court is in session and the monkeys are presiding. We are all present but our lawyers are missing.

So they throw paper at us. We use it to cover ourselves. We fashion blankets to sleep under. But I get no sleep, which is good; I do not want to dream – my dreams are not fair to me. They lack character. There are actors reading from a bad script. Good use of letters but bad use of language.

There are also beasts here, ferocious and fangs dripping with blood. We see only the beasts we want to see, are trained to see and are told we must see; they will invariably devour us.

In these words there are no strings attached, the author is unknown. He hides from me; he hides behind images of trees and serene lakes. Lies, all letters of lies. He writes are contradictory planes and misguided plots; some people call him a god.  

I wish to meet him. I want to ask him to stop.