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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530685" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Post</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530685" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Somehow, <br> I found myself lost in a familiar landscape<br> that suddenly appeared alien and heavenly—<br> white<br> in the absence<br> of however death felt—<br> and I was hunting for time in hypertext.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530685" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Unaware was I<br> of the scope of my distraction, <br> following the skimmed passages<br> of half-fact with half a half-life, <br> decaying in the brief tapping<br> of each second's slovenly click.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530685" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I was tapered<br> to the staccato immersion, <br> collecting the rifled, jutted, <br> haphazardly dispensed pornography<br> of Information—<br> flooding<br> forth, <br> disjointed, overlapping bursts<br> bustling over each other, <br> skittering<br> the shrapnel of thought.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530685" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> All separated.<br> All eroded—<br> the paradigms<br> which once felt stead, <br> linear—<br> as if narrative<br> could calm and concentrate<br> the chaos of the world, <br> controlling what is out of control—<br> that which can control.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530685" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I find my eyes tipping, <br> rebounding up, <br> my pupils dilating, utter<br> FOCUS<br> perturbing the plastic warps<br> and elastic renegotiations<br> of what was once<br> THE<br> MIND.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530685" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I find my eyes skipping<br> over paraphrases of<br> of paraphrases, scanning for<br> pertinence, connecting the<br> the ever-scrambled dots, , <br> repeating them to myself<br> until they make<br> sense…</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530685" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Somehow, <br> consciousness composed itself<br> by stripping itself of itself.<br> Somehow.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Tim+Stensloff">Tim Stensloff</a></strong></div>

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