.an answer to next thursday.
Talk about feeling rough. Youre something like a Billy Pilgrim coming unstuck from time, only you arent going anywhere. Loose like a lug nut put in place for the sake of using more screws not holding anything together; no wheels. Just rattling along as the world hurtles through time and you bump and jitter along with it. Youre clanks and clinks two seconds fast, sometimes three and often 2 too slow. Today, its minutes, or possibly even hours behind. Or is it ahead? What does the future feel like? Alone and unlived; dull, muted and impossible. The past happened in all its crimson vibrancy and lucid greys, but the future is empty and youre stuck right in the middle of the stagnant vortex.
Take a pill shaped like a book. The hardcovers cure faster; hit harder (theyre more expensive and spending money is said to be a rush). Wash it down with verse and a bit of therapeutic writing and youll make it through the future, and maybe, come right with the present.
At least, you hope to find a past one day, so you search for it between these pages and hope what you read wasnt written tomorrow. The paradox is overwhelming and the time ripples begin to form abound in your mind. Youre cerebellum is filled with bubbles and the Arbor Vitaes roots are swimming in air.
They say it coordinates locomotion and compares thought with actuality of movement; the cerebellum that is. Every movement you make is made by something that you cant control. Moving your arm is more like chucking now that you know this, but the medulla controls those base functions; those base functions that you have lost. Last nights yesterday you tried vomiting; some strange mix of cognition, chemicals and a hefty battle between hindbrain vanguards struggling for a new kind of power. Nobody lost the battle save for your consciousness and the left leg of your jeans.
So you awake two days later 6 hours post-present in a room of muted walls and colourless rain so unstuck you feel glued to where you dont belong; to where no human or persona can exist beyond even reasonable thought, but you seem to understand it almost as well as this run-on sentence.
Its not difficult when you can feel it; when youre there. A meteorite had to eradicate an entire species once, a bomb had to be dropped on a town once, a man had to be shot, a child strangled and a kitten drowned. They all happened and you could never understand why until you were here or over there; until you were a drowning kitten and a country under fire, until you were the man dropping the bomb and the soldier firing the gun. You never understood until the blade caught your side and the girl pinched your empathy.
And now you are a puddle of weightless ichor stuck in a life almost as impossible as the air outside the atmosphere. There is a vacuum of nothing that is heavier than now. You experienced its improbable existence and understood it for a moment, but the moment only lasted as long as the imagined prospect stayed ahead of true event and has been erased by today.
***
Shut your eyes and you can feel the hole but youll never understand it until you are there again. Again and again and the bubbles rise until youre nothing but a pocket in the ripple where someone else can experience the void...
As quickly as the momentum of these words lose pace.
Talk about feeling rough. Youre something like a Billy Pilgrim coming unstuck from time, only you arent going anywhere. Loose like a lug nut put in place for the sake of using more screws not holding anything together; no wheels. Just rattling along as the world hurtles through time and you bump and jitter along with it. Youre clanks and clinks two seconds fast, sometimes three and often 2 too slow. Today, its minutes, or possibly even hours behind. Or is it ahead? What does the future feel like? Alone and unlived; dull, muted and impossible. The past happened in all its crimson vibrancy and lucid greys, but the future is empty and youre stuck right in the middle of the stagnant vortex.
Take a pill shaped like a book. The hardcovers cure faster; hit harder (theyre more expensive and spending money is said to be a rush). Wash it down with verse and a bit of therapeutic writing and youll make it through the future, and maybe, come right with the present.
At least, you hope to find a past one day, so you search for it between these pages and hope what you read wasnt written tomorrow. The paradox is overwhelming and the time ripples begin to form abound in your mind. Youre cerebellum is filled with bubbles and the Arbor Vitaes roots are swimming in air.
They say it coordinates locomotion and compares thought with actuality of movement; the cerebellum that is. Every movement you make is made by something that you cant control. Moving your arm is more like chucking now that you know this, but the medulla controls those base functions; those base functions that you have lost. Last nights yesterday you tried vomiting; some strange mix of cognition, chemicals and a hefty battle between hindbrain vanguards struggling for a new kind of power. Nobody lost the battle save for your consciousness and the left leg of your jeans.
So you awake two days later 6 hours post-present in a room of muted walls and colourless rain so unstuck you feel glued to where you dont belong; to where no human or persona can exist beyond even reasonable thought, but you seem to understand it almost as well as this run-on sentence.
Its not difficult when you can feel it; when youre there. A meteorite had to eradicate an entire species once, a bomb had to be dropped on a town once, a man had to be shot, a child strangled and a kitten drowned. They all happened and you could never understand why until you were here or over there; until you were a drowning kitten and a country under fire, until you were the man dropping the bomb and the soldier firing the gun. You never understood until the blade caught your side and the girl pinched your empathy.
And now you are a puddle of weightless ichor stuck in a life almost as impossible as the air outside the atmosphere. There is a vacuum of nothing that is heavier than now. You experienced its improbable existence and understood it for a moment, but the moment only lasted as long as the imagined prospect stayed ahead of true event and has been erased by today.
***
Shut your eyes and you can feel the hole but youll never understand it until you are there again. Again and again and the bubbles rise until youre nothing but a pocket in the ripple where someone else can experience the void...
As quickly as the momentum of these words lose pace.