sleep is catching up on me. the wall afore prevents me from pushing any further. examples galore, i feel satisfied, finally. palindromic verses span across; satanic i say; satanic. don’t get all excited mr. seameal, this one isn’t a reference on you. no really. what would you call it, when all the inspirations get together in sync and make you vent. quackaroonie, the first name of allah and spirits of barley? should i not be producing my best now. that again is relative.
void. mr. plumber, do you have a toll free? we need someone to fix the hole. starry-eyed and chatty. cranky. the one with fluid muscles on the face and wobbly grey matter. two clearly-cut choices; the recent convert and the window climber. did i mention, the other day while i sat dozing in broad daylight i heard a voice calling out. oh how i loved the feeling then. how i would have loved the inter-dimensional conversations to continue, but i didn’t have the shrooms, geets did. so i avoided the waves in all sanity and with no jack of clubs for companionship, i moved on from the little girl, who called my name, out loud in public, without another soul hearing it, except mine.
shall we turn on the fire now? let’s not. it’s getting way to monotonous. not the rhythm either. it’s the usual. why do we just not lay next to each other, in silence and motionless. hear it all out, and then drift. slowly. away. this new term – i love it. crediting callingbella-templebella-bella-jesttubella for it. melancholia. just a frown away. and another term i am so totally hooked onto – mindfuck. as the clock strikes hour after hour, the mind sways in and out, in pleasure and pain. as it approaches the prescribed hour, the frown appears, niceties disappear, and it’s time to knock the door down slowly, just for the sake of balance.
eyes closed, we lie near-motionless next to each other. feeling each others’ breath. knowing the other is there just a breath away. the voice calls yet again as though invoked. i bang my head onto the wall. bang. the girl continues to call, as i fall from the bang. fall. i rub my head hot. rub. hot. then i cry. cry.
i sleep finally, two hours after santa’s gone mad.
