Something silly

Sometimes when you are waiting for something other things happen...

I’ve been in that paradise where my heart was cared for, and there was nothing else that I wanted.

But afterwards, when I cried in the comedown, I began to forget, so that occasionally, when I look behind, I catch a glimpse of something I can’t see, except as an abstract concept in the corner of my eye.

I found this to be challenging me to take yet another turn of the dice.

And so with my escape plan clutched tight in my hands I gave in to the feeling that blew me off my landing.

The mountain was soft where I landed a long time later and still pulling the wheel of all my endeavours.

When the rent was due and no money to pay for it, I began to walk the streets in search of inspiration and gave in to my desperation and ached on every moment.

How could I be reduced to this so soon after being so high?

I’m not absolutely sure I said as I changed into a straight tune for you.

A nickel gets me a smile she said, and pulled out a nickel.

I was rooted in the nows of all I have ever asked for, what did I care for a nickel.

When a ten thirty nine came on the radio I took my next fix, and remembered that nothing was real and everything was but an illusion.

And now, autosuggestions will give you a slight twist to cure your insomnia, said the machine.

I keep meaning to change the channel, but every time I get up to do so, something else comes along to involve me until I’m swinging on the stars again, or reaching for a rifle to get rid of the parts that don’t belong anymore.

The old ways are alright I suppose, said time; and if you don’t want to dance I can bring you something else.

I kept on crawling into my dreams, and saw nothing in my way.

And then half past midnight came and I just had to say as an aside in it all: what if I let you kill me in your lightning program in some kind of story you make up to serve me all my blues to make me do something silly?

I’m sorry, but I think you are in the wrong place, swimming classes start at three p m sharp, and it is now somewhat before that. How do you plead, said the hard truth.

I have been shipwrecked many times so I know not to plead anything.

If you do not plead, then how do you know how to make stew?

I do not make stew.

I think that you do.

I don’t care what you think.

That’s the problem then, isn’t it?

No, I don’t think that it is, not really.

What do you think then?

Why do you want to know?

Because it’s time to go home.

Thinking can never take you home.

Then what can?

The number 47 bus of course, it goes all the way.

If only I’d known that before now.

Image from Pixabay

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_{Animation By @zord189}