gloamingdaydream

Cut off sharp edge, feels like fuck. I’ve gotta run and jam. I’m surreale, here and there, and everwhere, then/wait for the cut off. Inside an empty room, the darkest sides of my walls flip around and watch me. The eyes of the burnt earth judge me, they know my every move. What can I do to escape them? Outside, I’m lame and tame and prone victim to the shark that prowls the wind. Must I freeze or must I drown in mud?

I count the blades of grass. Countless. At least one, that’s for sure. There’s another one, that’s two. Surely three and four, too? I can confirm that five is the least bit surprising of a number. Interesting indeed, there seems to be six, then. Seven? Incredible. What a number. Wait, look out, he’s watching me. Stay away, worm of the geddon. I have no desire to make your meeter at such a point in time. I walk away, allowing him to seize the green lands temporarily claimed by my hand which I have long since tossed aside.

A car flips over and lipped over and flipped over. Will it blow to the core? Will the engine survive such a blastering maneuver? A shadow exists, and thus exits. A tier injury, blood gushing down the gash on his forehead. He was lucky to survive that hit, if that was it. He limps, too. I turn around and walk the other direction, I have better things to do. One of those things is a lunch at my favourite side of corn. My knee twists. I almost forget. My calf on half and half, knackered and staggered. I feel the cracks in my legs, right in the middle.

There’s something missing. Something right here. I’m blank, all blank. Where do I walk, where do I go, when do I feel? I’m leaking. Somewhere, everywhere, all the time. I chop my time into bits and sell it, not even. I discard it, I throw it into the infinitely large garbage bin. It’s comical. I tell myself I have to stop, but everyday I throw a little more of it. Just wait, one day, I’ll stop. Then, I’ll stop again. Two days, three days in a row. Consecutive nothingness. I’m back where I started, and still nowhere to go, nevermore to be. The place where all my dreams come from. I’ve forgotten something important again/

If there were another way to access the universe, I would find it. If there were another way to rid my guilt and shame, I would be it. Drain me of my pain, and drain me of my soul. I refuse to bid, and dig, and grit, and bleed myself dry, all for a drop of gold. Fuck the Gold, I would trade it all for blissful ignorance. Let me return to the times when I was unaware of what lay all around us, when I dreamt of nothing, thought of nothing but static waves. A true man in the making, yet all that development snapped with one two year drought. Habit broken, new one’s formed. It was too late for me to become human, and yet I was unable to stop my consciousness from forming. And so, the more I resisted, the more I grew. And here I stand now, walking on the side path of a quickly crossed walk, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for inspiration to strike. When will it hit me? Am I truly a flawed vessel, doomed for failure? Or am I still crawling? Crawling and crawling and crawling again.

I can see what’s outside the window. Listen to me. I see it, all of it. Outside that small square on the page. I won’t tell you, but I’ve seen it. It exists now, I’m sure.