But what is love in the ministry that claims ownership of it? Do the souls residing there even know? Or is the underlying influenza of “face value” demolished in the wake of eyes opening? Does it grip their throats as it caresses their hands? Or is the bite given blind and taken blind? Can the overly gray skies grant this to them or does it spare them the details of their misdemeanor?
Moreover, what does it mean to resist the apple? The luscious, smooth, shiny crimson meal, is it even possible to refuse, all manners pushed aside into the back of one’s mind? Can the person who does not chew be defined as a “hero”? Or are they merely weak links in the chain that holds the world as we know it together? Nevertheless, the chains are solid, but are they secretly behaving as double unkind shackles? Is it necessarily a sin to be the one person who wishes to weaken and shatter somebody else’s craft? Why is it so unshameful that Big Brother will take the liberty to call them a “villain” anyways? Villains they may be, but perhaps the world needs more of them for the better of the brighter contrast? Slashing to and through metaphors with secret paradoxes glittered generously around the Room might be the only way to understand, but how many people will actually take the time to wield the double-edged sword of Doublethink?
Regardless of whether the weapon is in hand, what can you do once they strap you in the cold chair of limitless interrogation? Smiling electro therapy that so happily shifts your body into inevitable submission, how does it eliminate your every possible guard? When the numbness of thought occurs, how can one possibly ignore the man who cuts into the very area withing your skull? Again one might wonder: do the embryos die as a result of love?
Is it that the scalpel of self contradiction and condemnation removes the root of every trouble and then so kindly guides the patient into white shadow? Feeling enlightened, yet harnessing the magnificence of ignorance, to how much can one amount? Has the protoculture of creativity become dulled by the dualities of drunkenness? But in the midst of that superfluous wandering of the mind, can the consciousness hope to escape the labyrinths of doubt? Perhaps this is the reason why embryos of the mind are slaughtered like so? To serve as a vessel into the realm anti-thought and anti-pain, could that possibly be the purpose?
Is that the forlorn proof as to why the embryos perish as a result of love? Or is all that archaic noesis lost in the depths of common “Victory Gin”?
I wrote this after reading 1984 by George Orwell. I meant to gain a deeper understanding of the interrogation that happened in Room 101 and the themes of interrogation in general. I tried to make the writing itself highly abstract and deeper than the novel itself.. I hope that you enjoy this.