bench whereupon I sit down - dazed until dawn, in a stupor, lost in some form of medicinal meditation - and gaze outward. Moments from forming moments forming from moments. One lonely leaf scraping its sorry self along the promenade. Silver shivers of light slithering over the reflective bay. The distant sounds the closest to me, that paradox that paralyzes all the relationships in my life.
relationships
relay-shun-ships
relay-of-shuns-shipped-out-for-my-own-selfish-deluded-esteem
Clouds vapourizing: millions of minuscule rain droplets gliding through space and time and light and sound, flight now softly brushing against my face. Misty rain fall, while I crawl; through the tunnels of my mind. All seasons of night on stage, synthesizing senses: touch hair, taste sea. I watch dawn creep up on me and hide behind the cloud, slowly opening a crack in the cumulus and oozing out blood-orange daylight. And God gave thee awful Lux. Half blind I haul myself up and stumble home - through a sewer of rats racing to another false dawn - collapsing in the door to black unconsciousness. When I awake from dead it is dark.
