cliche

I rarely have ideas, I have to work for them they don't just come and consume me, ready made nonsense ready to be followed. They come as a hint ready to be read or analysed. Who is this character but a cliche, anonymous, terra nullius, vacant but ready. Ready for what? Ready to exist or stand in ambiguity. Are we all not ambiguous? Embarrassing, hidden by postures. Ready to be misunderstood, read. The assailant waits somewhere waits for something a chance. The chance occurs and the cliche makes headway into a report that is filed away. The vacant figure leaves a paper trail, that is for certain. An animal that is left to roam in a sea of delirium. The movie was real, the report was real, the charge sheet was real, the person waiting in the shadows was not, they ceased to exist. They wrote the marks that somehow where no longer real that were accounted for in damages to the state, a tally of numbers somewhere in a file that had become essential. The act was abstract, a defined set, a ready made path to follow. The cliche machine.


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