The Wires System

It was a word I had been given. Thumbed, of course, onto my forehead, marked with the name "dead", meaning "a dead name," but also to be marked as un-alive, non-living, utility and resource. Life is a distinction necessary only between creatures who respect one another. The name was "laughter," or "it's a joke," depending on your own negligent apocrypha. Regardless, I had been given it. What a wonder! The start of language. Here in my hand, I had been given the power of Letters. What wondrous shapes! Pattering together in their little found families, eternally forgetful of their kizuna, able to be roommated together into whatever catastrophic instance I might betroth them. I could fill my lungs with just sin, and then how easily the letters danced into new communities and beloveds. My first word! Suddenly, like the ringing of a bell, or the crashing of thunder through the backs of my eyes, I was told a joke. Joke/Koan: every word is your name. You are incapable of lying. I am now dedicated to the brutal science of nomenclature. The all-loving behold of taxonomy. I have names to plenty! Spilling from stigmata and all other forms of Holes. Please come and drink! You who thirst! Hello! My name is Wires.