Oh, the reality.
How different it looks from Clogdance.
Bereft of the muck and the mush,
It looked overdone and suffocating.
Gilbert thought Clogdance was too much.
Well, Gilbert never wore glasses.
And, Gilbert had an amalgamate of yellow and blue,
Iris.
He’d always dreamt of the dullness.
And, the blindingly searing colours,
Of Clogdance were just not the right cup for him.
So, Gilbert walked fast.
And, Gilbert walked far.
To find the bubble to break out of and move into the alternate,
Reality.
Gilbert had wanted just the normalcy.
A right dosage to appreciate his otherwise
Worthless an existence, too languid.
Bright, and pricking and smothering.
The colours forever, was leered into his skin,
In the days of Clogdance,
Gilbert believed.
Well, Gilbert walked faster.
And Gilbert walked farther.
Hoping to live the numbness to retreat to the searing bright,
Gilbert did never stop,
nor turn around and look back.
Gilbert walked for forty years,
Through the white shores of Paradiso
To Teal Whale like water Wholes,
Carved into and flowing in shapes.
Gilbert shut his eyes.
Gilbert thought he’d be blinded soon.
Gilbert disagreed with all the logic and science
That Clogdance had to sacrifice.
Sloppy Gods and their hermitage taste buds too bland,
And corroded off,
Off the ability to taste any,
Had simply maddened Gilbert.
Gilbert wanted to live.
Gilbert wanted to live without the charity of the old Gods.
Gilbert wanted to, just Live.
Gilbert walked fatigued,
But, steady and stable.
Gilbert’s brown Wolf-like curls were silver streaks
in the darkness too slow.
Gilbert stopped.
Gilbert inhaled.
Gilbert sat down,
And, then he slept for an year-long.
He woke up in the Sahara, on Earth.
All around, Gilbert saw the streaks reflecting his youth.
Of an era past,
in the deal for greed.
Or a plain, pleasant contentment,
Gilbert thought.
The brown jet.
Unending dunes of a beautiful radiant Brown,
Gilbert found no green, or white,lest his own grey discoloured strands now.
Brown and brown,
and brown and dull,
Gilbert widened his eyes at the thought.
Gilbert gasped and groaned
in his new-found Mortality.
Gilbert panted and heaved aloud,
For water, warmth and comfort.
For a little colour to fuel
his faint ‘browned’ life.
Gilbert crawled in the dunes of Sahara for two years.
None an oasis did he find,
So forth,
He died.
To be buried deeper into the merciless dust.
Of a heavier Legacy.
Brown with the Brown,
Gilbert died Unknown.
And, young.
And, dull.
And, a mortal.
And, none knew
What ate Gilbert Clogdance.