go home Dec 11, 2008
<—— (is dark. yes.)
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The dark path out of the city was not so dark in the light of the fires of the city burning to the ground. It's hard to see people in the distance at night and this man would have been hard to spot with a full moon. Not like his pants are off, but the moon in the sky. Of course, everybody was dead, so there wasn't anyone to see him anyway. He did have his pants on though.
The libraries burned. Spines cracking, pages curling: uncountable whispers evaporating as a thousand degrees transmute ink to smoke. A glow in the dark as he sucks the last dumb thought from his cigarette. Should write this down. Shit's tight. Guess I gotta learn to write first. Clack, he pops open the gun, eyeing one two shells, clack closed. Comforting.
The city hall burned. God, imagine all that paperwork. What a waste. No quick glance around. Just a long stare, with orange reflections dancing in his dark eyes. Thoughts rarely complete. What's a complete thought anyway? Grammar teacher taught us subject verb object, right? Ah, but objects are optional. I wonder who it is I am asking questions when I think them to myself. Me?
It's pretty trippy watching the city burn.
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Can we count the authors of the world? It is not even meaningful to ask such a question. (i would devour you for asking such) There are so many voices, and so entwined are they, as to evoke entire disciplines dedicated to distinguishing them against the noise. Shingles falling past rafters in the dark glow of a smoldering house.
Was the city a worthwhile expenditure? You will have to ask its occupants in the next life, should they reoccur there. ( ) Gradually you will realize that your 'good' & 'evil' are more real than anyone you know or love or emulate might have imagined; do not believe anyone who convincingly states they are simply constructs of your simple brains. (you will never escape your own mind) We prefer to address them as 'order' and 'chaos'. I am told some of you begin to understand this. I am told some of you begin to understand this.
Was the destruction of the city a worthwhile expenditure? What is worthwhile? Convince yourself that if you define everything, you will never have a worthwhile conversation. Convince yourself that the city is burning. (walk the dark path) Convince yourself that a man who has gone through grammar school can be illiterate. I need to get some sleep. Gotta get a little farther first. He turns away from the fires.
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In the undone sticks & folding cardboard of play-pretend houses (i ruined it all) those mommies and daddies and babies all Pompeii & earthquake avoidance. I pick one (orphans make more compelling heroes) and let her live, yea, she'll be the hero of the greatest story since the last time we just started ripping pages out of the Book of Life. (is a dream anyway) She'll be sad but figure everything out, and get stronger & bigger & know just what to do. (do not tell them) Then she will do it. She will plant the seed. She is the seed. I am the seed. It is dark.
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I know there are unanswered ideas, so I may create a sequel. Or you could choose a title and make a sequel.
——> by tentative
links to: uncountable
all writing, chronological
previous: The stars stood still and naked