They stopped the world doing anything but appear. This is the tyranny of appearance. Nothing hidden. Nothing forgotten.
This world without shadows. This overlit world. This overdeveloped world.
This transparent world – that’s only ever itself. This tautologous world. The same and the same same.
That knows only how to be itself. That’s never interrupted. That’s without transcendence.
This is what they’ve made. This is what they’ve done. This is their crime, that pretends that it’s not a crime.
It doesn’t sleep, this world. It’ll never sleep. And if it never sleeps, it’ll never dream.
This humourless world. This world without laughter. This serious world. This weighing upon us world.
Work in Progress 