Existence stretched through a detour, two spots; unknown in direction. Turning left when it was right before, keep all guessing, slide past detection.
I’m not a one stop shop, once I housed hand crafted originality. With the increase in demand I let my guard drop, and now both my shelves and insides are empty. I believed in a watcher behind me, I held onto tight to an invisible thread. Everyone is just silently constantly reminding me, I’m isolated and alone even in my head.
I hear the loud pop of plastic against plastic, feeling both relief and shame simultaneously. Side slipping and back breaking; I thought myself a gymnastic, though incredulous was the thought of even competing.
But I was sleeping in a Chinese finger trap, so assured that I would choose to make it a womb. You couldn’t hear a pin drop but with the concept of a single tap, ears would shake and ring as if it were a sonic boom. I’ve got nothing but dirt and dust on my shoulders I pass it off as glitter and simple magic. I show no signs of tiring from passing back all the boulders if I didn’t let them slide it would almost be tragic.
Pardon my complacent self involuntary involvement, and excuse me while I perform dramatic ironies. Preparing the conscious for the next inevitable instalment of prepared monologues of justifications and fallacies.
And I can’t but think in this instance, I remember the episode of The Simpsons where Homer is outcasted for screaming “aliens” and he drinks himself out of existence. “Red M&M, blue M&M, they’re all the same colour in the end.”
Really had to stretch for that last reference. Not the best.