how i wont back down but will stubbornly go down head first is still a mystery cake i havent quite gotten past the icing of. much less dis-solving it down to a shared platter for buffeting toothpicks from all woks of flies. maybe soon. as i turn up the stove to its maximum capable strength and decoct the pot as mechanically as my stereotype. for the last time. in which my one hand alone will take cover right where the hottest steam emerges. watching closely as the world’s most popular and worrying metal melts into the skin. sprints through the veins. slices through the bones. and eventually tears up the tissues. keeping my stare impossibly straight. as the full circle it once was slowly but surely deforms and disfigures before it purposefully disintegrates and realistically disappears. eventually. forming bubbles of fresh breaths for the stuffy noses still left hanging in the air from the last experiment gone wrong.
but. this is my lab. be it to create a nobel-prized phenomenon. or father an explosion and lose my eyes and nose and mouth and ears and yes you get the picture. it just shouldnt be anyone else’s move. on my scrabble board. but mine alone to ponder over. and if i choose to play dirty with statistics. disregard the charts. break safety rules. destroy crucial evidence. undercut a competitor. fabricate a research. tamper with the process. smother the investigation. manipulate the media. make presumptuous reports. or predict the results. anything at all. it is my game to play.
oh and just one thing that i forgot to mention. i. was just the resident lab rat.
for the notion of my thoughts words actions or the lack of it being missed and missing is something im reminded too often to let slip my mind but alas. not my tongue. as i find myself singing and sinking into aloofness in the fortitude of my own home. who did where is what to when will why so. some part of her entity would query. somehow. which in some twisted strange way i would hear but not hear. see but not see. feel but not feel. it must have been that solo trip i made. to the pawnshop. where i recklessly exchanged my ears and mouth for a pair of coloured eyes and selfish hands. and as i truck and toil forward on a journey that if bungled up. is no one’s cross to bear but mine alone. regardless of what was transpired is transpiring or will transpire. i leave the guilt trips alone and hopefully soon enough. behind me. for i am not blessed with the choices that others fret/piss over to make. or not make. strutting on wearily with my seemingly complete set of human parts. to make some sense of my impossibly unreligious pilgrimage thus far. that judgment call in less than a fortnight away. making the biggest demands upon me ever. is the only thing that really should count for anything at all. when the smokescreen atomises and the dust finally settles. and if there are any relevant links to draw here. it is that they stand for the very least. albeit alone. for clean unambiguous truths and unbiased tooths.
no appetisers maincourses beverages or snacks. im cutting to the chase. just dessert. and clearing out.
current aural of cosmic laws - The Pieces Dont Fit Anymore by James Morrison.
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