Apprentice Without Magician
Evil Clown Waxes Symptomatically Rhapsodic About His Youth
The man that gouged out his eyes tried to tell me about real seeing but I learned about shadow and light from the boy in the red hat with the cobwebs and blood and ash in his mouth. He gave me a single rose.
I learned that you don’t see what you see, at the movies, when I talked with the actors about the man in the red car and the woman I’d later shoot in another theatre.
Dust now covers the last dishes she washed by hand in her little apartment sink in the tiny walk-up.
Sometimes I go there and sit on the couch.
In the meantime I go to high school when I’m not looking for serial killers or sitting in the bar where they only play the blue music and all the drinks are always free.
I feel haunted and threatened by the man who walks alone in the rain. He has churned up all our yesterdays.
He was formed out of a younger America to eat up our tomorrows and bring about the end of all worlds. He owns a nightclub in DC and may have sold out on a world of no tomorrows to bring impossible intra-spatial beings into now from never.
I can’t beat him but I’m not too afraid because I have died twice before. Once by choice.
I don’t know what it’s all for but you have to draw-draw the sticks somewhere and stand even if you’ll never know if you’re wrong.
Once I was being devoured and desperately devoured back and so like two snakes devouring each other’s tails we became one. She became my sister and went to live deep in the earth. I dream her and we changed the way we feel and see everything.
I live in a bunker with a girl whose bird talks to her and she answers back. She wears a big black hat marked with the Hanged Man and she can walk a very very long way without going very far at all.
My friend Kyle used to be an FBI agent before I died but now he goes to high school with me.
We are in a band together called Defenestration, which I have never done. We play gothic alternative rock because it’s more logical.
When I dream, it’s not that things come true but that things are true.
That’s how I found the malt shop, though they were trying to bring me there, and that’s how I found the way that led me out of NASA and the man with no body and I suppose, in a way, why I drive with my eyes closed.
The Italian man from the government doesn’t understand. He is good and is almost my enemy but I help him and throw around darkness so he can’t see me even though I’m not bad… Maybe.
Of course there is always a lot of stuff I forget to mention. Like my banker friend who is pernicious anaemia, the child who is her parents’ and dog’s only reason for living, the dogs who think they are men, the hunters looking to kill shadows, the magicians who long for illusion.
I have seen a lot of dead bodies. Worse than a TV’s amateur sleuth. I wouldn’t hang around me if I were me but I’m not and nobody know the full extent of it really anyway.
A lot of those bodies… that was me.
Litotes The Clown
Some memories are harder than others.
##
The man that gouged out his eyes tried to tell me about real seeing but I learned about shadow and light from the boy in the red hat with the cobwebs and blood and ash in his mouth. He gave me a single rose.I learned that you don’t see what you see, at the movies, when I talked with the actors about the man in the red car and the woman I’d later shoot in another theatre.
Dust now covers the last dishes she washed by hand in her little apartment sink in the tiny walk-up.
Sometimes I go there and sit on the couch.
In the meantime I go to high school when I’m not looking for serial killers or sitting in the bar where they only play the blue music and all the drinks are always free.
I feel haunted and threatened by the man who walks alone in the rain. He has churned up all our yesterdays.
He was formed out of a younger America to eat up our tomorrows and bring about the end of all worlds. He owns a nightclub in DC and may have sold out on a world of no tomorrows to bring impossible intra-spatial beings into now from never.
I can’t beat him but I’m not too afraid because I have died twice before. Once by choice.
I don’t know what it’s all for but you have to draw-draw the sticks somewhere and stand even if you’ll never know if you’re wrong.
Once I was being devoured and desperately devoured back and so like two snakes devouring each other’s tails we became one. She became my sister and went to live deep in the earth. I dream her and we changed the way we feel and see everything.
I live in a bunker with a girl whose bird talks to her and she answers back. She wears a big black hat marked with the Hanged Man and she can walk a very very long way without going very far at all.
My friend Kyle used to be an FBI agent before I died but now he goes to high school with me.
We are in a band together called Defenestration, which I have never done. We play gothic alternative rock because it’s more logical.
When I dream, it’s not that things come true but that things are true.
That’s how I found the malt shop, though they were trying to bring me there, and that’s how I found the way that led me out of NASA and the man with no body and I suppose, in a way, why I drive with my eyes closed.
The Italian man from the government doesn’t understand. He is good and is almost my enemy but I help him and throw around darkness so he can’t see me even though I’m not bad… Maybe.
Of course there is always a lot of stuff I forget to mention. Like my banker friend who is pernicious anaemia, the child who is her parents’ and dog’s only reason for living, the dogs who think they are men, the hunters looking to kill shadows, the magicians who long for illusion.
I have seen a lot of dead bodies. Worse than a TV’s amateur sleuth. I wouldn’t hang around me if I were me but I’m not and nobody know the full extent of it really anyway.
A lot of those bodies… that was me.
Some memories are harder than others.
##
posted by Litotes The Clown at 10:44 PM
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