Do you remember when I jumped the gun and jumped out of the truck to just roll and run?

Yeah. Do you remember the swerve I took just to avoid colliding with your sprint’s direction?

I like that we reminisce about unique events that are dying for social reward.

And what do you think trust is but a drive to experience life two-fold?

Well, that must mean people persons are the most full lived in life, right?

Do you think anything extrapolates when the base is zero multiplied.

Maybe politicians are the largest of those types, but what of activists that need only a single gripe,
Their base is none or only one, and they grow in size like a fruit begins to ripen.

But they die in time, and will idle to idolize their own lies as progress begins to stipend…

What of random key figures, whose talents are numerous but in history is unremembered?
When they delve so far into something the world only wants to describe as a word.

That’s just digression, and we do it all the time…

That is digression, and when we continue to do so, we all die.

But birth cycles back to make sure we build on life.

Birth doesn’t recycle or refresh, but it must go forward, with death a mesh

No, death is a mess, and life a test, birth must be for the best

What is this conversation though if all we do in life is address and catechize




Why?

Because both you and I want to be him

I don't see how killing him would do that

I understand without context that makes sense, but look at it this way
If he made this amount of bad happen, and you and I could do this over in his place, we could both weigh in with each other how to make things the best they can be…

But how does killing him make us him?

He kills, he kills us all the time. We even have written evidence.

But you can make that shit up, and even if I wanted to join you in taking his place, what of when we have an argument over a fundamental and urgent task or ideal.

But we won't, because we will know it all.

What?
How?

Information infuses...he’s the most powerful, and thus his death would diffuse power and release information, us the receivers.

But why are we the receivers?

Because we get the control we take from him, energy transfers.

But how does killing him make us do that, he may be him, but how does that make us like him?

Well, we can either sit here and inquire, or we can do it and I can show you?

Not only do I think you can't, but you won't, you like your life how it is now and won't do something so stupid to change that.

What do you mean? He controls your life more than mine, hence why you are defending killing him.

Of fucking course I'm defending killing him, not only do I know him, but no life is worth taking. And he doesn't control me.

Yeah...no life is worth taking if you didn't create a world with life’s both worth and not worth taking, and you don't know him, you've never even fucking met him.

Bullshit, fuck you I've seen what he's done plenty, I like it and he's fine…

Fuck you, you know what I've been through, this life has been fucked for me, and you've had it fucked but your confirmation bias is making you say this dumb bullshit. Life can be good, but it can be better.

Yeah, but how do we do it? He's the one who knows how to make it better.

I know what to do and how to make it better.

Prove it.

Let's kill him then.





Is trust a must or mission or fuss, when will it wither away to dust?

Well precisely so, the question is friend or foe, but will that question be the initial throw?

No, it's crazy to open in it like that, but lazy not to hint and track
where all the truths in them do lie, what if all they told was a lie?

And what if so, do you go toe to toe, do you let them go, or just let it grow?

I have no clue, why need two, if the crossroads lead to a brand new three?

Well where's the one, it leads to three, but if the intro isn't none, and consequently must be one, the choice is really really gone.

Long and drawn, the answers don't dawn, but chosen between like right and wrong.

One is two, but you must have three, you've truly drawn a faux dichotomy.

So if I plead, that truth need said, do I expect the worst and live till I’m dead.

Why don't you test what in life is jest, and show me how I will egest.

You make some sense, but socratic at best, I guess I don't know what to expect.

A pupil you are, and the teacher is me, am I right to say that is what you've preconceived?

I would guess a yes, but two say wrong, so three will be the mystery of my draw…

So what if I’m the only one taking part in this divulging dialogue.




The man wonders why this epiphany has dawned on him; Not a soul seems present.
The man veers forward and to the right, looking for a stop sign to lean against on the corner.
The man's pace slackens as he tries to stretch his arm out.
Prodding in the boundary between the luminescence and blackened cloud for a cold piece of metal the man thinks to himself:
"Why does the thought of resting give me consolation?"
The man's hand touches a warm wall.
The man's pain absolves.
The man leans against it, choosing to not sit yet.
The man is happy...staring out at the crossroads from the small veil of darkness over the back half of him.
The man feels as if he is just out of the spotlight, remembering as little of what lead him there as if it would keep him standing.
The wall supports him.
It's warm, cannot do wrong, for it is a wall.
It doesn't have the capacity.
The man does not have trouble as he leans.
The man wonders, where did it come from...the wall?
Why is it warm? Why does it support and how can a man wonder why while it does so?
The man peeks as far as his vision lets him down the road he came to get here.
He hears the wall tell him to go back there.
"But why?", the man asks.
"It has nothing to do with you, it's me." the wall says.
The man sits against the wall.
He thinks— 'why?'
The man says "I asked why, I didn't say you were doing this to me…"
The wall says in a failing stammer "We already talked about this, I don't want to talk anymore, I just want you to leave."
The man says, "But we haven't talked about this, I'm not going to leave, I want to talk".
The wall sputters out: "I tried to read you the note I wrote the other night, you didn't listen to me".
"I did listen, I don't understand still; where is this all coming from." The man squeaks out of a closed throat.
The wall solemnly states, "I've been thinking about this for a while".

The man tries to slide up the wall to stand up.
He falls forward as if he was pushed, but knows his legs and memory fails him.

The man asks why.
He asks: "If I am me and you are you, who is you?"
The man asks "How can it be for you, if you are me? If you are just you, and if I am just me can it be? Between us two, even if three are present, evident or reticent, evidence is never true, if you are the only you and I am the only me, can you help me find it before it kills me?

The man limps back to the crossroads, where a car with a flat tire awaits him.