The Constant Shuffle

In this con­stant shuf­fle, chaos is immi­nent. The silence is pre­cious and pet­ri­fied, peace becomes noise and pan­ic that nev­er set­tles. In this per­pet­u­al derange­ment the kinet­ic con­fu­sion is pun­ish­ing, it assaults my sense of cen­ter and grates at my ears, nerves and con­scious. I can’t think, my brain is in this eye­less storm, churn­ing around itself as it wash­es over the shores of my iso­lat­ed stretch­es of san­i­ty.

There will be no qui­et tonight. There is only a break in the hum­ming for mum­bling, mum­bling turns to rum­bling before it ramps back up to stut­ter­ing, as the immutable med­ley claims anoth­er cho­rus. And con­tin­ues to shuf­fle. Con­stant­ly. All around me. All of the fuck­ing time.

Abiding ataxia. Shuffling constantly.I used to tread upon a series of endless grooves and vibrations that flowed into the high and the low seamlessly, meaningfully.

Vibrant vital­i­ty shin­ing through every bounce and step and stare. And sigh, gasp. Every tear drop met mat­ter with a cel­e­bra­to­ry splash, glo­ri­ous rip­ples and waves undu­lat­ing with­in the ebb and flow, and push and pull of every sec­ond that has light and life.

I stum­bled into my rhythm, it was elec­tric, and ter­ri­fy­ing and absolute­ly fan­tas­tic. The roads were open and end­less, the jour­neys errat­ic and unscript­ed, some­how all the while guid­ing me to exact­ly where I need­ed to be, regard­less of where I was try­ing to go.

But that was before the shuf­fle.

The interminable jumble.

The con­stant shuf­fle. The cease­less and care­less trip­ping and kick­ing, the falling and crawl­ing. The inter­minable jum­ble. The deaf­en­ing scream­ing of the aim­less calami­ties that bend and rus­tle. Rhyth­mic debris smashed to pieces, jagged edges strewn about the rem­nant rum­mage. Scat­tered hap­haz­ard­ly, shift­ing, and nev­er set­tling. The con­stant shuf­fle.

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