i've seen her highness on the magic carpet ride and it can't be too much longer until she drinks champagne with me in the parklands over yonder - we laugh at the beasts that taunt our night times - they are immuned to the thumping that comes from the parked cars at this place - no lights there at this place - just the moon sometimes and the wind all the times - the beasts lead my way - i know where to take myself, they leave me no option - i walk with my head down, and my eyes up - always up - always somewhere to go, finding the perfect spot for a picnic - some fruit juice, sandwiches, sunglasses and champagne - the air is as cool as the green grass under the worn out picnic rug - children sing and prance and look to their parents asking if it's okay with no words at all and of course its okay and so they go ahead and do it - there are no children permitted on the magic carpet and so i dare not touch her high-highness - i merely feel the peace that clouds their careless playfulness - it makes me feel psychedelic - i feel at once, a piece of beautiful nothing at peace with the rest of the beautiful nothingness, yet also the reason and force behind all things - thy will be done - i eat my salad sandwiches and smile as i chew and think - my mouth is closed as i'm polite but shun etiquette as my toes toy with the skin on her legs - a rainbow hums anticipation as the children look skywards, but it never really forms - the gods must be as high as i am right now - i feel the soil and the earth shift, but don't dare interupt her, her high-highness and the story she is telling me - its one of laughter, silliness and it's universal - she plays with her hair and shows her perfect teeth - and she doesn't even look like she goes to the dentist - and she makes me feel i don't have to - i throw a ball back to the clumsy kids and she lights a smoke, making the purple smoke smell like a minty lavandar, and my mind feel much the same - a plunging mind in a liquid soul, and a body full of life and energy that now needs to run - and so i pick myself up and take off with no words or real reason - i always run fast - i know i should slow down for i know the pain that awaits me - yet i push myself fast, harder - my breathing starts to synch with my heart now beating - i feel the dust and cracks of paint and cobwebs tinker off my moving and pumping legs that pound the dirt ground - i don't recall how long i was sitting so still, i don't recall what i was doing there - it's getting darker, and my arms are caught between the winter air and my pulsating movements through the parklands - my sweat smell belongs here - the beasts tell me so in their movements and the harks and hanks and conks they make as i run my body past them and their tree-homes - the madness of continuous running keeps me running continuously - just up ahead now - just to this tree - just up to this stump - just up to this family of beasts - but it never ends - it's the world as it should be - a naked man running through the trees - ah, and the pain now pangs me - my breathing is stolen and my legs belong to the homeless-man - the automatic movements are no longer my life but my legs - i kick up beautiful little puffs of dust behind me, and like television, it's okay to enjoy them - sadly though and however now, i know the end is just merely hundreds of meters away - and so i push myself to ensure i am empty upon my end - i am completely empty like the dust-puffs - every anger and sadness that energises me is burnt out of me and drifting upwards to the sky-clouds - until, at last, my self inflicted pain and pleasure is over - i keel over and gasp for air - i feel my sides in pain and oxygen is what i need and i feel the nessesities of life return again - my sweat will soon cool, and my breathing will soon return - my pain will swank into endorphins and my post-shower beer will taste so nice after i do the dishes and put my rags way - i sink into the blankets and the couch and see the magic carpet rise...
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