Thought’s objection to deprivation echoes in my ears. Its muted screams fill an insatiable space.  It wants it so I open its gates, its eyes, my eyes. Thought wants light. Thought develops lights. Its camera misprints onto the strangest of nothings. Its camera is not broken, but the process is flawed. Light groans beneath its raping verdict, its mutilation at the hands of this limbless machine. Thought is light though, the result of it, the extension of it, the end of it and the beginning of it. Light does it to itself. Without light, there would be no objection to begin with.

-Enash Doog


incident beneath a threat

You, a designated problem of mine, recall yourself throughout my flow. My boredom determines when to ignite the protected gasoline underneath the impulse to turn away. My mind riots past your lean featureless receipt. I know you were here- the hollow impression left behind gives you away. My wary flaw dances with conceit behind your unattended scheme. At the last fade, might mind bore under the array?

-Enash Doog


My suspicious light pins the regarding unworkable mistake, yet my contrived perspective does not sway…Perspective is a stubborn beast. She sometimes shifts with the slightest jolt; other times a thorough obliteration is required.  Or on second thought, in all likelihood, they depend merely on the shock-wave resulting from a butterflies flutter somewhere in nothingland. I’d be content with it ending there, but then the gust of wind having its way with my lepidoptra must be considered; air pressure, atmosphere, terrain, sun, flares…pfff you find the initial conditions, it has long been determined that I will finish this post in eleven words anyway. Determined? Scratch that.  It always was and always will be.

-Enash Doog