Looking Around I See Nothing

For a second this was almost a narrative. Imagine that. If all of a sudden the rambling became a coherent and cogent traverse into the forward thinking unfolding future moments. Strange as it could be, it would be. Because for that second our protagonist made the fateful decision to enter the narrative at full bore. The choice was setting the empty beer glass down and rejecting the bartenders pandering questioning of ’will you have another’. As our protagonist’s ’no’ floated gently with a tinge of regret out of his mouth the stage was set. When the outside world found out our hero was coming back to its sweet embrace it got all in a tizzy. Reality flailed around trying to rearrange everything in the correct order for our hero’s exit from the bar out into the streets. The door opened. Whew! Reality had successfully and correctly reestablished its form. There would be no dream-like or hallucinogenic-like effects felt by our hero today. He was there in a reality slightly drunk but all was still standing. He walked and or stumbled to the subway station two blocks away. Fumbled for his monthly pass. Swiped it. Caught a subway. Got off the subway at his stop. Walk to his apartment. Unlocked the door. Walked inside. Turned on the television. Was pandered to by advertisers till he feel asleep. The end. All you haters can suck my narrative.

Storms Remind

The deluded movement forward through space and spacetime. The haunting nature of the here and now. The disgust in all movements. All actions reaction to the blunt trauma of this grandiose idiocy. But no retreat here. Get into the fray. Take part in the action lacking now. A boring atrophy. As a fate; terrible. As a life; sad. As a forecast; is that a faint smile? Give it time. Make movement through in observation. Intellectualizing on the potential of pointless violence in every interaction. A thousand spoiled brats with their bottles taken away simultaneously. The collective whining will overtake the earth. From sea to shining oil slicked sea. A slow complaint filled decline into anthropocentric obsolescence. Built in from day one. Sometimes it is hard to interpret expiration dates. Hindsight is better then twenty twenty and always a little funny. Chuckling at sweaty displays of futile last ditch pride. It’ll be a sea of red faced crackers. Panting and wheezing for the right to die with even less dignity then they started with.