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I Close My Eyes...
Aug. 13th, 2009 01:05 am...and I'm back where I'm supposed to be.
I'm walking barefoot along the straight yellow line of a hot black highway, a thick angry black line cleaving straight down the heart of a brutal and pained desert.
Surrounded by a legion of dry and bitter dust. Sharp and deadly mountains on every horizon. The barest of life struggling and failing under a heavy bright sun.
I walk, barefoot, the soles of my feet scorching and burning. I'm leaving foot prints. They're not just impressions in a soft asphalt... they're thin layers of skin. Left behind and forgotten as I'm walking this straight and stupid line.
I breathe in, heavy and hot into my lungs. Flesh burns, a slight sent of the weak and feeble bushes and trees as they die under a blinding white light. The sort of light that bleaches out everything to the colour of forgotten and scavenger-ravaged bones.
"Everything around me is dead", i whisper. I pray. I command.
My heart turns cruel, dark, dead.
My soul and heart screams. I am only a man. I can only do so much. And all I can do right now is echo the world around me.
...
I walk, I walk, I walk.
...
I feel it before I hear it. I hear it before I see it. Prime American muscle car. A big block. Wide wheels and a thick and angry grill. Black, chrome. A tarpit coloured cape, stiffened by a foul wind.
She passes me, this car. The grim reaper has 4 thick and street slick tires. She swerves past me, just barely touching me. No, I touched her. Her rear view mirrors lightly and gently grazed my hand as she went by. A sharp glint of chrome stabs me straight between the eyes as she flies past.
She slides to a stop, sideways, straight and black and evil in front of me.
For the first time in a hundred years, I stop walking. I stand still. Feeling my charbroiled flesh sink slightly into the road.
She sits. Angry. Seething. Motor revving, thrumming and thumping.
The engine dies.
Silence fills our universe. I can hear the ticking of her engine cooling down.
The driver's door swings open. She steps out.
( Read more... )
I'm walking barefoot along the straight yellow line of a hot black highway, a thick angry black line cleaving straight down the heart of a brutal and pained desert.
Surrounded by a legion of dry and bitter dust. Sharp and deadly mountains on every horizon. The barest of life struggling and failing under a heavy bright sun.
I walk, barefoot, the soles of my feet scorching and burning. I'm leaving foot prints. They're not just impressions in a soft asphalt... they're thin layers of skin. Left behind and forgotten as I'm walking this straight and stupid line.
I breathe in, heavy and hot into my lungs. Flesh burns, a slight sent of the weak and feeble bushes and trees as they die under a blinding white light. The sort of light that bleaches out everything to the colour of forgotten and scavenger-ravaged bones.
"Everything around me is dead", i whisper. I pray. I command.
My heart turns cruel, dark, dead.
My soul and heart screams. I am only a man. I can only do so much. And all I can do right now is echo the world around me.
...
I walk, I walk, I walk.
...
I feel it before I hear it. I hear it before I see it. Prime American muscle car. A big block. Wide wheels and a thick and angry grill. Black, chrome. A tarpit coloured cape, stiffened by a foul wind.
She passes me, this car. The grim reaper has 4 thick and street slick tires. She swerves past me, just barely touching me. No, I touched her. Her rear view mirrors lightly and gently grazed my hand as she went by. A sharp glint of chrome stabs me straight between the eyes as she flies past.
She slides to a stop, sideways, straight and black and evil in front of me.
For the first time in a hundred years, I stop walking. I stand still. Feeling my charbroiled flesh sink slightly into the road.
She sits. Angry. Seething. Motor revving, thrumming and thumping.
The engine dies.
Silence fills our universe. I can hear the ticking of her engine cooling down.
The driver's door swings open. She steps out.
( Read more... )
