my house is a hill. and my feet like mountains. as i climb up to the top every day in and day out. all the while sleeping at the bottom. and as i finally get to the top. i find that the summit is cold, deserted. and dead. and the snow drifts silently in the night.
and this is how i feel everyday i get home. a married man for four years now. even though the last year or so has been, how do i say, distant. living in a home with a stranger i think i might have one time known. and my foot steps echo in the hall ways, bounce off the walls and give me a slight feeling i am not alone. i can feel her warmth next to me as the night makes its way through the room. our conversations are stagnant. and it doesnt seem like she can look me in the eye.
i have tried many time s to surprise her. gifting her when she first get s home. but she is not really here. and sometimes i am not really sure if i am either. i like to walk throughout the city to get away from the mitigated disaster i so reluctantly call home. and the city is a quiet sound. so full of noise. death. and the clashing of emotional opposition.
i can still remember when we first met. so full of love. togethor the two of us fighting off the hazards of the outside world. and everything back then was so colorful. so full of hope. (and destiny). the first time i layed eyes on her i knew one day we would be one. chasing her for as long as i know. and the day it finally came to fruition. and these are my thoughts as i rumble around the city of the dead. the buildings hovering over each other. as coffee shops litter the streets like dead animals. and sometimes i feel all is lost. but i wont go down without a fight.
As i look over the man gives me a wink in his all but dead face. his eyes are graves. and his fingers tap on the wood as if i am ever second closer to being on the six o clock news. Outside the sun falls through the clouds and warms the streets. and people do parade in an individualistic stereotype of one another. all is calm. the cold has subsided (somewhat) and the sun irradicates the clouds above. I start off down the street as the storefront windows glisten and glow and call me over. and in the corner of my eye the diner begins to show up. I pause for a bit, mull it over and decide maybe i should stop by for a appearance. Inside the seats are empty, the floors are cracked. and the fans whirrr, hum and try to make their way free. behind the counter a lady stands leaning over and bored. her skin is attempting to drop to her knees. and the sparkle in her eyes are lightbulbs in the process of going dim.
lets go inside and find the area of expertise that has self contained itself in order for your wonderful stimulation process. to run through the patterns and i lost my head once. my eyes wont look at me anymore. and my hands change bodily fluids without me knowing. my hairs afraid of itself and my nose keeps complaining about the smell. my heart fell apart and joined my knees. my arms are ugly but my chest disagrees. i have a fine ass my friend just ask my teeth. my eyebrows have rampant discussions with each other while my ears are being cleaned. and did i tell you my back talks behind my back while i am not looking. my chins a feminist and goes to rallies to meet chicks. it brings them home and has wild misinterpretations with them. my bald head is balding and is thinking of and dismemberment plan. my head aches and my eyes are sore. wonderful witty and not withstanding my bottom lip has sexual aggression towards my upper lip. lets go dancing said the wildflower to the grassroots. we are different but the weather is sure nice and the trees shall be jealous. the orchids are my only friend said the redrose petal to the tulip but be sure i am not not falling for your husband. the dirt is clean i washed it last night. the spoon is embracing the knife you say. lets go claim the bedroom window is having relations with the kitchen whore the coffee table. you see one and most likely you see the other. my light bulbs a genius it can generate its own electricity. lets have it down mister bossman your memory has already told me the facts. my bodies going thru a tough time right now and it would appreciate it if you would apologize.
Outside the lights are damaged, and the people are gone. the buildings are mournful, and the window is fogged up. the apartment inside my house is dead silent. and i 'm lonely, still (and half dead). all the eyes on the outside are on me, the walls are talking. and the dripdripdripping of the faucets driving me anywhere but down. i woke up this morning in a house that isnt mine, the world past my fogged up window is not my own. and i dont know what to do with myself. this life before me was not very prosperous in the first place. so my mind races through the empty rooms and begin to start to make up things on its own. maybe i should venture forth, out the door and into the hall. or maybe i should stay here and wait for this world to end (or start up again) . and so i determine to get up and try my hand at the door that opens to a world that isnt there. i figure, whats the worst that could happen. i might not exist anyways...