I told him I did,
I'm tatooed up and down myself,
Like scars on the surface.
He smirked an ugly finale,
bit his lip upon release of
what would be his last utterance.
"What, uhg, is the meaning of this
racket."
And so he went, just as fast as he
lived his life, the bulb burnt,
and it told me on the seventh hour,
on the seventh day, he's gone for
good now. A bad animal if there ever
was one, a silent know-it-all who
kept all the truth to himself.
I sat there for hours watching this
shell smell out stiffness. After the
first hour his tongue sprung up,
efflorescing, beginning new bloom.
I laughed as this thought occurred to me,
and his final erection followed.
Rigor Mortis is a happening thing.
It's a wonderful wondering wandering
around a corpse as life's going's got
everywhere around the dead sentient.
Pages in your life unfold and a blindness
is blatant. How you've wasted so much time.
Worrying, withdrawn, self absorbed, alien.
As you have now become witness to the ultimate
truth. All could be taken away in such an
instant.
And you turn your head to your left and watch
wallets bounce to a backward rhythm as dollar
bills slacken a crippled noose and hundreds
are screaming to be "CUT LOOSE".
Journalism unwinds and headlines read simplicity
and people are curious about the words
" the one thing of value in the world
is the active soul."
"this everyone carries inside
them."
Emerson signed it.
My heart beats with each puzzled utterence,
as these people see free, and want to be.
Oddly I glimpse, at past and present, there at the
corner ready to greet me.
I shake his hands and double kiss her cheeks,
wundering, fumbling for words, it's just
I don't remember them.
" What, you don't remember me?"
" No, I don't," I said.
" Really, I don't. Who are you?"
"I'm a fictional faction of wisdom unearned". She whistled.
"And I be thee, after of coarse, you promise to be free." Said He.
Silence ensued as I wished the dead had voice.
He certainly would know what to make of this situation.
Well, here it is all laid out in front of me, willing
me to it's back beat.
I turned inward for something to say to these bizarre apparitions.
These ghouls who found escape from a vault I'm sure, where
the bad trips be barred.
All I found was static, and I felt my bowels move as
the apparitions let out a laugh that was more like a cackle and curiously
reminiscent of a crow gibbering.
Finally I said, " WHAT IS ALL THIS GOD FORSAKEN NOISE! "
I made a great effort to sound calm and pensive.
But howled out my despondent response and was
relieved to see it got their attention.
She uncorked a bottle and led me to a table made
from recycled parts of the recently deceased.
My face must have led her to my puzzlement and
she handed me his donor card.
"Ahhh, I never thought him the type."
We shared the bottle without discourse.
Me trying to tune out the clamor emanating from my
inner-self, they humming to it's rhythm.
I sat there curious in intense clamor pondering
the wine label titled "Rhythmic thought Impact".
Finally I said, "So, what the hell is this
raw fracas."
" What is going on here! "
They looked at each other as if they didn't know
how to say it in English.
"What God Dammit, has the messiah been killed, again?"
That garnered a giggle.
" Then what is it? "
Well she said,
"Simply put, you're dead."
"Shit." Said he.
"whole life is practice." Said she.
"I don't want to die." Said I.
" It's okay to cry."
"Neither do I, want to cry." Said the guy.
She gave me her hand as he poured me my final drink.
"Cheers'"
"To all the SIGHT ANDS OUNDS."
"Slow". I muttered, glass raised, knuckles blanched.
" I feel in myself a lift so luminous " said she.
" how so you like that " said he.
Sweating out emotion at what I felt was a raw
deal.
" I wonder, I asked, if it was possible, well,
for me to return to the sea."
I turned my hand upright so all could see,
and showed them my scar, which read blood,
bold, SON OF THE SEA.
Yes.
"Sure I can do that," he said.
as he fished out a worn nickel.
"that's mighty white of you," I exclaimed.
"It's nothing really," said she.
" No, it's nothing." said he.
I got my motor running, and set off in
the closest direction, tires squealing.
Windshield freezing.
And made one goal,
To keep the light in their eyes,
and bag it without any trouble at all.
soon the static lifted.
soon we understood her freedom.
awakened
by the true spirit.
he was kept under
wraps.
asunder tantrum,
you lit.
thee match has been
met
stranger.
better funded.
it was waiting,
now it's over.
aghast.
river, wisp,
memories.
i did try.
...gatsby~
