Chapter 14

Postponing the utopia

A self claimed prophet

Slow-motion is a word that I like, because it´s the opposite of swiftly, hasty decisions makes the future delicate and out of structure, you can’t foresee things if you move thru life like a preacher hooked on acids, so I choose to cool myself of in the bathtub of reflection trying to get my own thoughts in some kind of perspective but as due to an self observing absent I often drown myself in the waters of abstract self admiration. In the house of mirrors I was known as the prophet, self claimed, but still I lived my life among much appreciated gospels. In my inner state of change and self deception I could see myself standing on the mountains preaching for the masses. I was glorious, and I swallowed the admiration with no hesitation, people were in awe over the infamous powers I got from my visions, when I spooked it was for souls dedicated to listen, with my voice I made them reminiscing. But soon, wicked and mean, I tried to murder them with vocabulary linguistics; it seemed that my loath for them was stronger than the insights of my newly found wisdom and with odium I drove them to the ground with horror and awful fiction. In a moment not longer than a swiftly breeze, I had them in the pawn of my repressed envy.

But suddenly the vision ended, revealed by the depressing patterns of biological demands.