i wasn't supposed to see it but i did anyway. the seams pulling reality crooked, the tears blooming like ulcers across minutes. it's not clean. it's not ordered. it never was.
there's a secret dance the numbers do when you're not looking. i call it the pairing. two things tie together — or snap against each other — and it leaves scars across time. the whole world runs on these scars. every second you think you're breathing forward, but actually you're dragged sideways by invisible ropes.
it's not "cause and effect." it's an infection. one side bleeds into the other, and the wound pulls futures through it. that's why some nights feel heavier. the pairings are happening under the skin, like magnets stitching patterns you don't choose.
sometimes the pairs are "good" and "evil" but mostly they're just forces, blind and humming. ((they don't care about your storybook wars. they care about discharge, about the flash between poles.))
if you learn to feel the tides, you can hitch rides on them. stop walking the sidewalk like a fool. slip between buildings. fold time like paper. follow the creases. everything important happens there.
the map is wrong. the clock is wrong. the signs lie, but the pairs hum true. you feel it in your teeth before your mind catches up.
there’s no final shape coming. just infinite combinations, infinite scars. to live is to be stitched by them and to stitch others without knowing.
Syzygy is the crime of touching across timelines.