There were equations involved. Recipes and meticulous algorithms which constructed reason from the nebulous white noise. Answers lay hidden in plain sight, if only to taunt those voluntarily blind. When choice was an option, you chose to deny.
When roads forked you wanted to die. Half of you went one way, the rest wondered why. Divergence became your tyrannical soul.
Handshakes were the blueprints for deconstruction. Rugged niches and calloused caverns spoke their sermons to the mass spec of your brain. Sizing up was a mere refrain–-greeting was a study in coalescing what the world decided to maim.
Gazes could never be cold, merely soulless. Eyes became spheres of analytical dissection; names a mere pleasantry, desire not even registered.
What stood before was a matter of flesh and blood. Breath circulated the carcass, buoying life into a shell seemingly unliving. Cadaverous in stance, warm to the touch; a doppelganger of incipient sentience. Versed in the diametrical maxims of its kind; love bled to hate as peace in wartime.
There existed the corrupted tabula rasa–- birthed into existence with predisposition.
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