Share the bits that don't matter and let it be. Write. Because it breathes life into words.
It’s 7.11am on a wet morning.
Breaking the dawn is the offspring of the gods and the devils. Neither sleep nor awareness has greeted me. I sit in bed with a clouded mind and no water to quench my thirst. It is the in-between of physical extremes. Right smack in the middle. Between Heaven and Hell. This is where I stand.
I have, in fact, just returned home from another night of gallivanting on the streets. There is something in the moonlight that keeps one awake. The temperature drops, darkness (or should I say light) falls and the city stumbles into a premature subconscious state of slumber where it is all breathing but not seeing. It could be possible for someone like me to relate with this motion thus pulling me back every night.
Probable, possible, plausible.
The city provides a security blanket to snuggle in protection from the demonic rascals that squirm their way into your mind when left alone; it’s funny how one would find comfort in the concrete hardness of town than in a warm mattress and soft duvet. I use the word ‘duvet’ because obviously, my comforter is not doing its job. Thankfully, I’ve always challenged the function of a ‘what’.
Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask.
Function. That’s a funky word. It’s like fuuuunk…sion. I don’t like the word function and I definitely do not like the dictionarial meaning of it. There is no such word as ‘dictionarial’ by the way, it just seemed to fit. I don’t like definitions assigned to words. I don’t even know what constitutes as a word. It’s all so… logical-ish. I just create new words. I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense and I don’t think I would like it if it did make sense… But that’s just me. I don’t like many things anyway.
Anyway.
|