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March Theerd
Creative
 Created on 3-3-08
 Views(122)
 Story Rating G
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With the waking eye in the small, danky sheet-less, dirty manged bed I'd been sleeping in the past 9 years was an exhaustion of pleasure and an adventure came to closing. Five segments of dream I'd just endured as I reached for a pen and paper to scribble 'em down frantically, not getting caught up with details knowing how important they were:
First I was sittin' at the local steps of the abandoned food-stand when a schoolbus came roaring around the corner, riding hiigh up too close on the snowbanks and at fasting speeds came crashing down on its left side, smashing kids thru the windows. Some time went by as the big yellow bus faded out of existent like one of the enemies in a video game after being shot. Several minutes went by when, in a familiar dejavu, the same yellow bus geared right and went r-i-i-i-ding up to hiiigh on the snowbanks and it came crashing down on its left once more as the one before it, to fade away into the day as the previous one.
As dream segments transition from one to the other with no clear connection or understanding, I was sitting in a classroom full of students with their desks formed in a zig-zagging line across the entire room full of sleep-deprived children. "A lesson in the form of agony," said the female butch teacher, "lose what you have and find solace."
Being able to not take in anymore I plopped my head down on the desk and said I was goin' for a nap. Other kids booed, cooed, and threw paperballs at my head while the teacher crooned my back with her hands and whispered "Shh, it's alright. You have your rest. Shhh. It's alright."
With her lesson etched in my mind I traveled through time to a local supermarket in town as a friend an' I were standing at the cashier. We wanted to rob this corporate palace of all it's greed, money, and cigarettes. We placed our items up on the ferris-belt and when the cashier checked the fifty-sebben an' some thirtycents to pay, we stared her plain in the eye and said in a cold, murderous tone: "We're taking this with us." She smiled and poured the items into a crumpled paper-bag and waved us away as we walked out of the store, chest boasting as we walked out the front door. Like she did one thousand times before.
When we walked out've the supermarket we entered the front doors of a bar-type roadhouse of a feeding frenzy in the afternoon, with radiant vibrant colours that make the clearest shines of summer seem gray and stale. Only thing was, everything was chopped in half and the left side of every object, person, and thing was all you could see and touch. We ordered our beers with the right-less beer and mug, from a bartender chopped in half so he's lookin' at us with only his left eye, and it was a clean cut as if the world's born this way with no loose cartilage, blood, or reminiscents of right-way living ever existed.
Taking a few minutes to appreciate the afternoon sun in bed- a weird feeling that I had woken up at all - I stretched my legs and said hello to the poorly-wrapped plastic covering my window and made my way down stairs to Mother smoking her cigarettes watchin' the television news.
"That's very random" she said with surprised eyes and a bored, emotionless smirk on her face. I agreed and went to the bathroom. Aaaaahh! Nothing like a good piss after a 14+ hour sleep. Washed my hands and walked on out in the livingroom, puttin' out the black, cracked thinning gloves, grabbed my CD player with the classic "Morrison Hotel" and headed on outside with "On The Road" by Kerouac that my older brother Rie handed to me after we went to another city and I searched out for the book, and he said, "Shoot, Kurt! I can give you my copy if you want it" and therein began the greatest inspiration influence of my short-life to live.
Heading outside in the evening dusk was relaxing, and reading a few pages of the book opened my eyes to the world with more amazement, astounding, profound visuals to enhance with words runnin' through my mind like a non-stopped literature passage of notes for the buds back home over several drinks, wonderful groovy music to make your toes dance, and free creative literature for all though I's remained the only one out of the group to be writing in the night.
When night dawned 'round, the normally cool, refreshing finger-numbing air vaporated into the air of spring as the damp, humid warm oxygen made a nice change of pace. Taking the opportunity, I grabbed my smokes and "Strange Days" album and head out to the rain-soaked streets of the danky, broken down small town of a couple hundred. A few of the neighborhood kids took my local spot at the store steps so I ventured forth thru a relaxing stroll underneath the fogged, massive gray skies.
On passing one of the houses, a few childhood-now-grown pothead friends from way back when asked what I was listening to while they cuddled around their girlfriends on the couch set up in front of whatever small front yard they had.
"The Doors" I nasally shouted.
With his arms still around his woman, he asked if I was suicidal.
He heard a "nope" back there over my shoulder as I kept my pace, with my gaze to the matted skies and the old-witch-like creeking branches of the mysterious trees. "He's mocking you" I coolly thought and grinned at the thought of being the sarcastic nitwit I've grown accustomed to displaying with the family. On my walk home I noticed I was breathing heavier with each step, slowing down my walk to adore the beautiful darkened scenery all around anyone whose decided to enjoy this warm - though disgusting - climate in the middle of winter.
You know this is the work of global warming and industrious waste from all the useless pieces of vermin who'd rather trash the precious life they're customers in than take pride in keeping their planet healthy and breathing, but no - we'd rather destroy our Earth and watch the snow in February and March plumage the environment a feet thing then melt within two or three days just to recover entire countries in a blizzard only to melt with the warmest weather that shouldn't be happening.
The hour struck elebb'n PM as I grew tired and slunk off to the shower to take a slow moment and think some things over, taking a good thirty minutes about where my life was headed and whom I hung 'round with, wonderin' just where I'ma go this summer. Life's big and life's small. Life's ready and life isn't. The people are insane, boring, normal, crazy, exciting, and I'm preparing myself for a year ain't no one in my path's about to forget, remember, or walk away in a state the same than before they crossed it. I headed to bed and lay my head down with that thought in my thoughts to end all thoughts as I closed my eyes and dreamed the dream to end all nights of this warm, almost-spring like night wonderin' where my dreams are headed in this world of consciousness needing to be brought to the front of the line for the world to know, and just hope, for a single second that everyone in this world isn't as pathetic 'n miserable as I thought the last thought before slipping into unconsciousness.
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Please Login to post comments| On March 3rd 2008 october1015 Said : | |
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Inspiring. |
