Gedankenexperiment.

A thought experiment.

"There are no penalties for breaking the laws of nature,
because there are no crimes: Nature is self-regulating
and merely arranges things so that its prohibitions are
impossible to transgress."

"pa rum pum pum pum"

I played my drum for him,
I played my best for him.

"pa rum pum pum pum"

and then he smiled at me.

Thanks Carl.

They tell me that the faster you go, the slower time moves.
A speed is the distance divided by a time. If you travel at
the speed of light you would hardly age at all, but your friends and
your relatives would be aging at the regular rate.

Journeying back to your hometown after three years of travelling
the globe has a similar effect. With your feet set firmly on
crisp canadian soil, your observations of a storied past, look
odd and bloated. From babies to beer bellies, your eyes become wide
reflected arciforms. Friends understand paranoia, an acquired ego.
You sense lethargy, and try desperately not to sound pretentious
as your sister checks your pulse. Fear tends to the result,
pa rum pum pum pum, Ludwig Van on speed.
You retreat to the back of your mind, a candle burns to light the
way and you wonder where your confidence has gone.
A certain song brings back the rhythms of a softer existence,
the rocking of the train brings you back to a new beginning.

You become depressed, oppressed by ideas, a haunting, hard to exhume.
Taunting, eternally. You wonder of sin and gratiot road, and
the exodus of home. You were not the first nor will you be the last.
Slowly you fall, down and down the well, your armor abused by
a violent tumble.
There you find yourself tunneled into a cave allegory wondering
how different things would be if Socrates was sold but not bought.
You dream about time travel and how it could have all turned out
different. You feel alone as all your philosophy is eaten by
roaches and worms with sharp teeth.
You hear heroes speak of leeches and how they faked death
to sense freedom.
You think this fucked up, you think this crystallized.
You link this depression to an inner hurt, and feel for
the rope.
It burns your hand as you punch at shadows, listening to
the blood drip into the pool below. The leeches cry out
in ecstasy and you start to hate Cake and Christmas.
Pulling back veils, slow, hardly effortless, take my
ear please. You laugh as you realize they're shaped like
fingertips, you wonder who will understand.
All who await wonder at your laugher as you ease
yourself over the edge. Is he Mad?
"Your song haunts me!"
She howls clawing off the bark of her sisters oak.
Eternally I'm yours, it replies.

You look around at the faces who've come to see, and
can hardly sense the jest.
You wonder why, and they wonder who.
They say you,
you count two.
A blanket,
thank you.

You tickle a tightness and realize your skin
is shrunken, ribs with no meat, a skeleton switch-side.

Footsteps at midnight you trail the floor.
Side-splitting side-step, you cry out,
no more.
You sense an end,
but no one links the two.
Depression and this disease,
the brain and the bottom,
fix one and the other is through.

You shout out "this is the best of Beethoven!"

There are holes in you, He says.

And my dreams are leaking out, you reply.

He nods and blankets his face with fast speech
and blows bubbles, you become distracted.

You ruminate about the rhythms that connect us all,
a language you yearn to understand.

He's still talking about odds, and chances, and percentages.

At first his ideas seem perplexing. Like the idea of twelve
dimensions. Voices from within, a conservative state, living in
America?

Jump in line and do your thing.

Jump in line and rock in time.

You believe your answer lies between the lines of
this new language.

Dancing wild, your senses adjust, and simply. Turn off.

And now your gripping at strings, and travelling through
esoteric tubes. Lighting adjusts underneath and they
are all laughing at the ideas of human evolution, of
these politics.

You hear your doctor rock back and forth as if his education
hadn't prepared him for a bending back of flame at the head
of a match, he fell in.

You dance with light and wear it like a bracelet,
they become wings, and you sense a great space
between you and them.

You realize the fight is over, your laces are
untied.
Your flowing with the river, your bright and
beautiful, the instant spanning out like a bowl
of glue over the tile floor. an endless note.
Only two saw it and your seeking the other out.

Phantoms battling for control you reach out to
share an embrace but the magnetism is broken.
and it begins to smell like empty pages in a new
book, automaton believers.

You land and overlook an ocean of stars,
seemingly inhaled and exhaled by chords of
frozen sentiment.
The waves break where your shoes have landed
and you believe in your answer.
your toes squish pattern,
walking round and round like holmes,
the old holmes, toying with watsons
check mate. You make him believe,
and hold back a spasm.

There's a plaque on the wall and
you whistle over to let it speak.

The award said it won,
but regretted
to say,
the world hadn't the answer.
you needn't pay.
look, I like your rhythm,
maybe it's time,
spark a truth inside.
myself which only,
loneliness can dismiss.


She was gone,
but she just arrived.
and began to remember me,
the secret of houdini.

...gatsby~