Saturday, June 30, 2007

Ebony Butterflies
This slow feeling....I'm nauseous I cannot stand upon these weak feet, Some dog in the corner this random hellhole corner pissed all over himself. Funny shit, whatever. Urr..throw up..eww disgusting crap. I have to runaway, get moving from this spot and escape whatever shadows happen to be trailing my own witless shadow.

Gotta get up, gotta run. Can't move to much tranquilizer in my system, I have to push up,....glass..good...damn! That hurt...gotta get out!

Standing upon this rickity slab of concrete of a bridge I have escaped for now, however I will be found again. I lean against the railing stare out into vast early morn darkness....what a sight the heavens bright worlds and crashing spheres of light playing across vast space....so much better than sitting trapped within that dirty cell. There is a story I know better than anything, because I would tell it to the darkness within my cell enjoying a warmer feeling as if the spirits themselves were listening to my crooning of words so polished diamonds glare in envy of such smoothness.

This rickity slab is loosening bit by bit, I glance over to the corner, and over the pale rocky beach the pouty waves lap to the shore as if to breakup and repair in swift dance. The clickity bang of an old tool is heard,one noise swallowing up all like Cronus and his children. Over crag and rock a small shallow old beggar with a shopping cart Travel toward the lapping sea, maybe to find urban treasure, maybe to drown deep into the calm tide. I happen to be losing myself piece by piece, tightening my grip on the rail pain surges foward.

Reminding me of what nust be done soon. What a pity I wanted more. The beggar leaves his cart for a moment staggering with cocky limp and drunken drawl swish slap of broken sandals moving along crags. Seems something has......DAMN ....I have to shift my focus again, pain sparks through my system I avert my eyes from the sight...I stare upon some fair maiden clutching a cell phone to her ear tears streaming freely down upon a porcilan face.

Questions form however a faceless mask stays in place, I am watching her from within my fortress, a kind of game is played out in the recesses of my mind, moves and strategies prepared, my imaginary faceless opponent loses the game...what grace. I shake from internal stupor. The young maiden stands now her grip tightens on the celluar phone she's raised her voice to high pitch and screeching decibals yelling out how she's tired. Who gives a fuck I'm tired too and nobody gives two hoots.

The scene of portrayal of the quiet screaming battlefield of a beggar and his shopping cart with its stripped K-mart label. I'M THE WORST WRITER IN THE WORLD, EVERYONE KNOWS THAT..... uhhh...strange writing invading my concious my vision is blurring and I can hear my worst in the backgound...I try to stay emotionless on this external shell just to perserve sanity until then. Simmering close to the surface and applying a bandage to a cancer paitent and telling them it's only a scratch.

Something is begining to draw to a close, faint rays of morning light summoned and a mass of orange-yellow floating just over the tip of this rickity slab of a bridge. Vanishing......Some distant spot in the underground....

Marlon: Dad, I don't have much longer left....
Marlon: What Dad?, I can't run....my legs are gone...
Marlon: Why are my legs gone? Well, thats a bit difficult to explain...shh...oh...god I think I hear her coming...she's looking for me and is mad.....shhh Dad no noise bye...

(2 minutes later a white and nerdy ringtone chimes..)
Marlon: Dad! I thought I told you no noise!....what? where am I?...well in a bathroom stall...hiding
for now...
Marlon: Dad? She's looking through all the stalls....what? Hide Inside the toilet and close the cover?
Marlon: Dad,I just took a fresh dump......what kind? Dierrhea....why? why do you think? Cause I had a bean burrito for lunch...

Marlon: Oh Dad, she's found me...uh hi. Can I finish this call?....I can't....oh...Dad?.....beeep...(dail tone)

Vanishing.....Uhh...pain surges through my being oncemore, I can't stop the tightening of my grip on the railing...I increase my grip in my left hand around something shiny and besethingly sharp. Time slows to a drawl and crimson elixir stains this bridge... The crying girl still there yelling in pain and from fear, clutching her lifeline....a silver cellular phone. Screaming....swish-swash of passing footsteps....Darkness oozing from the walls of my ce...noo....not now...more crimson elixir stains the bridge.

I feel eyes on me..not from observation...but in curiosity....heh the emotionless mask begins to crack and the hint of a smirk is playing upon my lips...a box has washed upon the shore...the beggar stares in amusement but from fear does not touch this item from deep depths emerged. I wanted more, but sadly I can't spare anymore for then ......I return to being that...and that I cannot be. Swish swack of shoes upon this rickity bridge....gripping my shiny object even tighter more crimson falls and splatters on the bridge.I raise this tired body as my head toward the changing heavens, I close my eyes and smile....

Off in the distance movement in the cool air, louder screaming and sobs....why? Crimson stains this slab in rivers.....How beautiful...butterflies? now? oh yes the beautiful tale I knew by heart and would recite to the darkness....what was it called?.....oh..yea....Ebony Butterflies...

Somwhere on a beach there is a box sitting ashore with a beggar and his shopping cart nearing closer to pick up this treasure....somewhere in that box lie my dreams...
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