Diary of a lost one

The problems of a madman are thick and split uneven.
The copses of the mind grow verily and part.
Hedgerows and cornrows, dapple sweated skin.
Nirvana nervosa, cuttlefish leaping untoward other pools.
Manic marmalade and jammy dodgers set for tea.
Drinketh the cup, saucer my world.
UFO sightings in crank eyes blinking away respect.
Luminous goldfish mouthing mockery at me, their cruel lipless mouths spitting jarhead alarming verbal violence. Curses abounding, see the vibrations in the water tank. Deep sea diver knows secrets whispered in the moonlit night. Black and yellow Bioshock suits reflecting shimmering light, sun’s beauty bending through the waters deep displaying refractions on the seabed. Shells and pearls spread coarse around pebble beach. Pinks aplenty, little clams hued with it, stipple effect daps the clam’s lined exterior, dark and light camouflage in the red, red ocean. So much blood seepeth forth. The bodies cramped in bulldozer mouths ejected out, splayed on sands and currents. Washed away to the great deep never to be seen again. Last breath stuck inside the chest leaving the mystery for the ages. With nary a care the blue waters embrace the forms with accepting arms. Riddled with corpses, hope floats eternal. Little Sebastian conducts the underwater showcase, jazzy Gillespie blowin that boogie.

And what do you have to show? Hmmm? Little man tate scrubbing dishes for mama’s approval. Never get it, critical critical, love love. Anxiety fire in me, OCD tappa tappa tappa, touch rub flick, lather rinse repeat, as needed.

I looked into your soul and saw a marked angel of death waiting for me. I heard the lies on your lips and betrayal on the tongue. Pierced and tattooed pink son of a undulating so slimy for me. It was a dragon, black and scaled to scare away the tots. Smaug breathing out the hellfire in your guts. I get burnt, burnt from the singeing flame of unbridled passion and malice. Can’t hide that evil, can’t tongue that bitter pill. Force feed Sodium Pentothal, get truth get it get it, gone girl.

No I haven’t seen it yet? No I don’t know the new star of the hour. You play your tastes and smother it on my bread like mustard and mayo offerings. I’ve forgotten so much, the sickness steals my brain images. Try to keep up, try to hold on another day in the festering human stain on the world’s sheets. Myopic misanthropic. Give the devil his due and pay back taxes on god’s expectations. You’re money’s no good here says the jocular meathead bouncer at the trough. I slop down to eat the meal with the rest of men and suddenly am forsaken and scorned by the stiffs. Not wanted, no habla simpatico,

The respite lies in the warmth of the sun. I twirl and tan in rays beaming so nicely. This is fair this is fine, not to pity the simple life. No Amish paradise but I’d settle for some monk robes to plain my simple heart. Carrying around little pouches of gold coins as I chat with Friar Tuck. All that glitters, all that currency that partakes in the human struggle and decimates our lives; rounded numbers on the head count, where’s your buddy? Are we alone, are we destined to float among the cosmos with a word naught? Radio signals sputtered out to a silent void, frequencies blasting our self-important message as the ellipticals make their moves. Time is matter, matter is meaning, search for meaning or a race for time? Why have we all given up on the big questions to settle for the tools of the new epoch? Nothing to be solved perchance, the dream of fools has had its ride and we the wise stride elegantly along the path of least resistance. Jauntily walking on the rainbow road with many a colour at our feet. Peer for peers.

And I travel down that way and traverse the multi colours. Looking there and yonder for the answers to this query. I’ve tried the apple but I still see no clue, still stuck inside my head with scribbles and faulty equations on my chalkboard. Curse it all, throw away the work, leave me to my thinking and my pensive hobby. Time is slipping and I care none. I am home here; the palace du Rodin, I rent the space monthly until my final curtain call. But the question begs and I with it. Snub nose to the floor sniffing after vestiges about face. Be the seeker dragged along the misty trails, so lost in it all I’ve found some other way. No proofs but a calmness settling over me. Wispy clouds rounding my head, wafting in and out orifices to deliver vapourous leavings. Left with sensing of an unknown that drops a laugh fluttering on the wind. A maiden’s handkerchief of smirks taking flight just there. See it, know it, forget it soon. Forget everything. Mind empty stroking no egos or sins…

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