Audioslave kicks into gear with uncommon grace. I'm temporarily at peace as I battle the consciousness that tells me to shut the fuck up and go to sleep and the eyes that conspire to drag me down to the depths of lurid dreamscapes where murder, though fearful, is common and dogs and belgian spiders are my companions as I search for my one true love. Though I know where she is. And how to find her. Yet she continues to elude me, in life and in these so-called dreams.
A cup of fake tea in me, an evening of World War 2 drama rolling through my mind and fear of an uncertain future to drown in - this is where I stand, or sit, or swim. Depending on which metaphor and what state I choose to ... exist in. It's probably swimming. But I can't swim, so I'd drown. Which ... sets everything up as it should be. Well, supposedly I can swim - but I don't recall knowing how to and in any recent experience, my love for the sea and boats and the art of moving through water aside, when in something as basic as a pool, even my extra weight and blubber doesn't help in keeping me afloat.
The pictures inside and outside of my head haunt me. It's hard to focus sometimes with all these smiling faces in photographs looking at you. Beyond you. People that ... well, both distant and near. Though none of the people in the pictures around me are distant at all. Yet ... there's a lifeless quality to them. I just don't like em. Not a picture person, me. Cheeses quite a lot of folk off.
Are there "eventualities" that you know of? Ones that are closer than you want to admit. And yet you avoid them. Ignore the possibility. Waiting for that knock on the head when you turn and realize that it's far too late and the unimaginable has finally transpired. And what did you do whilst you still had time? You turned your back and trained yourself to believe that it wasn't so. It wasn't there. There isn't time. But I can't turn and face the horror that awaits. I pray, not to a god - I just ... pray to Hope, that I'll have the strength and courage to face it and the future that lies beyond that.
I think I've had enough of the 23 hr, 56 min day. I'm going to start a petition for shorter days. Fuck the sun and its tyrannical terms of controlling my days. I say let's do 12 hour days. And hours last about 43 minutes and 20 seconds. And ... well, wages and salaries stay the same or go up in equivalent so you're not earning less. That would be pleasant. Waking up in the morning. Getting to work, chilling, getting into the groove - oops, time to go home and boot up the rest of the world. Well ... perhaps that wouldn't work out. But I'm still going for a radical change of the system. The Sun is no better than a fucking Big Brother type dude. Always watching. His lap dog, the Moon, around when he isn't. And then when the Moon is taking a night's leak, there's still all the fucking billions of CCTV cameras that look like Stars that record your every move. Think about that while you chew on your dried morning coffee crumble.
Till time comes to a halt and they call my name. Out loud.
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