Rorschach from Offerings by TYPHOON

Eyes on the screen. We have all the information now but what does it mean? Reason’s a tease. Drank up all that hemlock, here I am just reading the leaves.
Left wondering: what happened to the life we lost, that got lost in the living? All this fiction makes me nervous, turns out it was blood spilled on the canvas we admired just like some Rorschach painting. The film in your brain—it edits to remember, keeps the figure in the frame. A sacrificial violence, all those passed over in silence then cast out with the blame. And I’m trying to stay sane—meanwhile, the river of forgetfulness starts spilling the banks. Caught in a lie
and instead of fessing up we'd sooner just go out of our heads. I’ve been holding up my end when I should have doubled down on my own atom bomb shelter instead.

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