Art Intimidating Life: The Ruins of my Mental Empire - Part Thirty-Seven

i have nothing to argue about - i am wise to my head mutterings and more often than not, accept them for what they are - and when i don't, when i take them up to the country town dance hall all late tuesday night, and admit my faults and mistakes the only way you can outside a country town dance all early on a wednesday morning - the cold morning air at first taste, as the black sky becomes dark blue and the miserable birds sing their songs, unaware of just how fucking hot it's going to get later on - up above, a young woman reads a book entitled "lonely planet" as the man next to her drinks a scotch and coke and imagines having sex with her - especially cunnilingus - she's flying away and reading up on far off distant lands, and thinking about how she's going to describe it to all her friends and co-workers - she better be quick - she's only got two weeks holiday, and two minutes before he makes his move

i leave the town at dawn, leave massive amounts of evidence of my visit behind - graffiti, annotated library books, tampered newspapers, murder scenes - every tree i pass by is dead or dying - long flaking branches block ever path i dare to take - some stretching seven, eight, ten kilometres in length - silences makes memories scream, but this sounded much like a nightmare to me - screaming winds and the trees, i swear, the laughed at me as they collapsed, succumbing to their torture

down below, the ants and grubs and creepy-crawlies make this world one ball-mass of rotting spaghetti sex, death and the endless instinctive drive towards self-preservation - to be remembered by the following fools - to be remembered by idiots - i only want to be remembered by the people i love, admire, and kill - i only want to love the dead and speak to them - hear from them and learn - i have nothing to argue for the dead speak to me, they speak for me - nothing wins against death - no word play, no confidence - empowered by a slack shrug of the shoulders, a laugh in the form of a quick breath out of the nostrils - and a turn and meander as i move on into the true, actual, realistic void

eventually a man appears out of the absurdity - sitting surrounded by the dead autumn oranges, reds and yellows - he has a large bulky army jacket on - worn and holy, the jacket looks older than i am - he however has no-one to pass his bottle to
"hello"
"hello"
"what are you doing?"
"i'm not doing"
"hello"

seagulls soon, somehow too delicate to be scavenges - that is until they transform, melt their innocence in kaars and korws - my heart beats itself to death - a phone call from home reminds me of myself at this very moment, having long forgotten where i came from and why i was brought into this life

she pushes her face against the glass screen, like violence without the violence before a crowd of thousands - phones ring constantly from thousands of different phones - judgement day is her primetime profession - the fat, the ugly, the simple, the stupid - consumed by thought free lifestyles - blind to the manipulation that has devoured their whole existence, and obliviously the carry on with their lives

perhaps i should've told him - perhaps i should've offered some help - his bottle is now long-gone-and-empty and his existence a distance memory waiting patiently on death-row - his last meal was a needle in the arm - his first meal much the same - i take a look at the world around me, knowing from here on in, he'll have no idea what's going on - if his mother was to die tomorrow, he'll be none-the-wiser - his death propels my life into importance like a meteor feeling first friction against my atmosphere - adrenalin pumps like sex through my body and im charged and laughing in giant leaps and glides that make - great - time - the stars drip and smear as my speed, my awareness slows this world down

but nothing can ever last for such a small amount of time - squatting like my brothers in evolution, my fire burns a dull slow burn, and im slowly drifted inwards into a sad realisation that it wasn't a meteor at all - it never was - instead of my grand life and times, it was nothing but a falling, crashing, flaming aeroplane the whole time - falling slowly to earth - i just never knew it - i just never noticed