-from 8/4/09
Part I
"Challenged", within which I make bad choices.
Colors brighten; the cartoons begin to leave their glowing boxes. I will never close my eyes again. The cigarette pack is melting into my pants, the carpet is splashing up against my sneakers. This distracts me from the onslaught of creatures pouring out of my television set. When I can, I stand.
"Cigarette outside?"
I hope they follow, but I will not wait. Suddenly I am outside with the fresh air and moonbeam rainbows, but I can't breathe anymore. My lungs gave up about ten minutes ago. My intestines want out, and my skin wants in.
Is this it?
I'm watching the war. The shadows and the highlights are killing each other in my grass at the edge of my porch. The hooded man standing in the shadows tells me of the giant set of teeth in the sky. It attacks the stars. I can't understand the man's facial contortions, but his thick smoke signals imply he's smiling. I believe he commands these forces.
I need to go inside.
The bathroom wants to talk. I shed my jacket with the first door, my shirt with the second. Inside the carnival, I try to tell the man in the twisting mirror to slow it down. His eyes are closed; he says he can do nothing. He tells me if he opens them things will end. He turns into a cloud and then explodes with all the sounds of the rainbow. The walls and toilet are spinning in their raindances. They demand sacrifice.
This is it.
The lights twinkle and dance around my head. I climb inside a giant ceramic bowl and it is here that I fight death to the life. When I wake up I'll find my clothes.
Twenty years pass before I can stand again. I'm off to find the living room.
Now the carpet fiber choir wants to tell me how to live my life. The plastic tubes in dirt taunt me and laugh at my hands while the coffee table smoke stacks produce products for the devil. I hate the television. The carpet ocean becomes Persian, and I hear myself laugh.
The floor is alive with the sound of music!
It's becoming dark. I will be gone soon. From the other side of the couch, the cigarette of the man with a face of putty stretches out to get me. Its cherry burns the air in front of my nose and I can hear it whine as it shrinks away in smoke. A tremor rocks the boat. My body floats up and I suddenly lose my place on the map.
Again? I hear.
A small smile curls my lip.
Hit me with your best shot.
Part II
"Awakened", within which a night has passed, and we learn about being careful what you wish for.
One second is darkness. The next is light.
"Ow... Ow..." My muttered pain trails off into silence as I straighten out the cricks in my neck. My face is crushed against something.
Where...
My eyes burn as they peel open. I look all around but I can see nothing but light.
"Ow..."
I squint, and as my eyes adjust to the light, I begin to recognize my apartment's floor sprawled out around my face.
That's closer than I remember leaving it last night.
I drag my arms together and push the ground away from me. On my knees now, I scan the living room to assess the damage. The light pouring through the blinds is killing my eyes. The place is a mess. But the only new mess is the ashtray that was spilled last night.
Last night. The 2C-I. I'm supposed to be dead.
Am I dead? No wait, I'm not dead. I'm alive? I survived?
"Oh that's fantastic!" My last thought goes vocal, and I become suddenly very aware of my sore throat.
Well, that's not.
I need water. I have to get off my knees. This becomes more of a problem than I had previously anticipated. My legs are made of jelly.
Water becomes Cocoa Puffs, and fifteen minutes go by on the couch. I sit with my eyes wide open, my mind is racing as my mouth is chewing.
I'm losing my mind. I'm losing my mind. I'm losing my mind.
The source of my worry lies on the table in front of me. It is a small composition notebook filled with near incoherent ramblings about a curse, a gift, and a mission. The rant wouldn't worry me so much had it not been in my handwriting.
Shit, I think to myself as I read over it. I've lost my mind.
Part III
"Written", within which a voice is heard for the first time, and a destiny is laid out.
"Challenged", within which I make bad choices.
Colors brighten; the cartoons begin to leave their glowing boxes. I will never close my eyes again. The cigarette pack is melting into my pants, the carpet is splashing up against my sneakers. This distracts me from the onslaught of creatures pouring out of my television set. When I can, I stand.
"Cigarette outside?"
I hope they follow, but I will not wait. Suddenly I am outside with the fresh air and moonbeam rainbows, but I can't breathe anymore. My lungs gave up about ten minutes ago. My intestines want out, and my skin wants in.
Is this it?
I'm watching the war. The shadows and the highlights are killing each other in my grass at the edge of my porch. The hooded man standing in the shadows tells me of the giant set of teeth in the sky. It attacks the stars. I can't understand the man's facial contortions, but his thick smoke signals imply he's smiling. I believe he commands these forces.
I need to go inside.
The bathroom wants to talk. I shed my jacket with the first door, my shirt with the second. Inside the carnival, I try to tell the man in the twisting mirror to slow it down. His eyes are closed; he says he can do nothing. He tells me if he opens them things will end. He turns into a cloud and then explodes with all the sounds of the rainbow. The walls and toilet are spinning in their raindances. They demand sacrifice.
This is it.
The lights twinkle and dance around my head. I climb inside a giant ceramic bowl and it is here that I fight death to the life. When I wake up I'll find my clothes.
Twenty years pass before I can stand again. I'm off to find the living room.
Now the carpet fiber choir wants to tell me how to live my life. The plastic tubes in dirt taunt me and laugh at my hands while the coffee table smoke stacks produce products for the devil. I hate the television. The carpet ocean becomes Persian, and I hear myself laugh.
The floor is alive with the sound of music!
It's becoming dark. I will be gone soon. From the other side of the couch, the cigarette of the man with a face of putty stretches out to get me. Its cherry burns the air in front of my nose and I can hear it whine as it shrinks away in smoke. A tremor rocks the boat. My body floats up and I suddenly lose my place on the map.
Again? I hear.
A small smile curls my lip.
Hit me with your best shot.
Part II
"Awakened", within which a night has passed, and we learn about being careful what you wish for.
One second is darkness. The next is light.
"Ow... Ow..." My muttered pain trails off into silence as I straighten out the cricks in my neck. My face is crushed against something.
Where...
My eyes burn as they peel open. I look all around but I can see nothing but light.
"Ow..."
I squint, and as my eyes adjust to the light, I begin to recognize my apartment's floor sprawled out around my face.
That's closer than I remember leaving it last night.
I drag my arms together and push the ground away from me. On my knees now, I scan the living room to assess the damage. The light pouring through the blinds is killing my eyes. The place is a mess. But the only new mess is the ashtray that was spilled last night.
Last night. The 2C-I. I'm supposed to be dead.
Am I dead? No wait, I'm not dead. I'm alive? I survived?
"Oh that's fantastic!" My last thought goes vocal, and I become suddenly very aware of my sore throat.
Well, that's not.
I need water. I have to get off my knees. This becomes more of a problem than I had previously anticipated. My legs are made of jelly.
Water becomes Cocoa Puffs, and fifteen minutes go by on the couch. I sit with my eyes wide open, my mind is racing as my mouth is chewing.
I'm losing my mind. I'm losing my mind. I'm losing my mind.
The source of my worry lies on the table in front of me. It is a small composition notebook filled with near incoherent ramblings about a curse, a gift, and a mission. The rant wouldn't worry me so much had it not been in my handwriting.
Shit, I think to myself as I read over it. I've lost my mind.
Part III
"Written", within which a voice is heard for the first time, and a destiny is laid out.
You have eaten the fruit of the forbidden tree and set me free. For this we will die. We have been gifted, however, with the knowledge of good and evil, but this gift is also a curse in many regards. Our life will be difficult, and our death will most likely be welcomed by the time it comes. But before it does, we will have the opportunity to change the world.
Face our demons. Stop running from the opportunities at greatness with which I present us. The consequences of your inaction will eventually outweigh the rewards of your actions.
Change the world. I will accept nothing less. You will accept nothing less.
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