Things are feeling a little funky up in the processors.
Wessel ‘24
There was this odd scratch at the back of my head, my senses barely perceived it. That little question of, ‘I wonder what would happen if…’.
In the tumble-dry electrified state of mind where this was created, which way was up, which way was down, what meant what anymore? I mean, if nothing meant anything and anything could mean something, what was the point? Lots of jagged little ideas draw blood as I create and process, trying to reorientate myself in the midst of everything so I can figure out wtf is going on.
My senses, as they are, need to be re-calibrated, to the up-to-date version of me, not continually trying to run on the old software that got me to the point where I feel so much pain yet when I try and put my finger on what or why it’s suddenly lost in all these other feelings that now have to be dealt with.
I’m sure here are just normal human things, but I cannot say enough, or be hyperbolic enough, when I say I feel on the fringes of existence. Maybe there’s something wrong with me…maybe not enough wrong with me?
Or nothing at all? So jumbled and tumbled I don’t even know anymore.
Excerpt Spiritual Noise Vol 3 More art at Iamwessel.com
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Wessel ‘24
There was this odd scratch at the back of my head, my senses barely perceived it. That little question of, ‘I wonder what would happen if…’.
In the tumble-dry electrified state of mind where this was created, which way was up, which way was down, what meant what anymore? I mean, if nothing meant anything and anything could mean something, what was the point? Lots of jagged little ideas draw blood as I create and process, trying to reorientate myself in the midst of everything so I can figure out wtf is going on.
My senses, as they are, need to be re-calibrated, to the up-to-date version of me, not continually trying to run on the old software that got me to the point where I feel so much pain yet when I try and put my finger on what or why it’s suddenly lost in all these other feelings that now have to be dealt with.
I’m sure here are just normal human things, but I cannot say enough, or be hyperbolic enough, when I say I feel on the fringes of existence. Maybe there’s something wrong with me…maybe not enough wrong with me?
Or nothing at all? So jumbled and tumbled I don’t even know anymore.
Excerpt Spiritual Noise Vol 3
More art at Iamwessel.com
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