A day full of spiders

I was on the blog and blogging this:

But what the hell, I'm half Buddhist about it all these days. So there you go, that's my philosophy in a nutshell. It is now time to move on to serious things; believing rubbish, semaphores and sweet candy and the stale air of hopelessness where coffee has a curative effect on insomnia even though you've fallen down the hole lassitude in the indifference; oh the comic underbelly of Wartons laxatives an minstrel jelly. You say you don't know what I'm talking about, terribly sorry, turn left at the next stop sign...

Enlightenment dissipated as it will do if you don’t stay in the moment completely and I found myself thinking that if I cut and slashed and burned the whole night long a hundred roses would peel potatoes in the detention centre. But this is not what I wanted to say, it is the left-over thought of impressions that someone else said. Then I thought I would think something else.

Sometimes it is night even though it is daytime. Used to be I had to take an aphrodisiac to calm down, but my mind is made of ceiling wax and sticks to everything. Thriving intentions slide mercifully through my fingers; and I would know that bone of contention to dissolve it away where spiders hunt flies, and each fly a ticking from the clock, every tick another one, and for every one another hunter, until the space becomes huge in the bigness of it all.

And then I felt so alone with nowhere to go or anyone to do it with; some would say that is freedom, but without love it is a vulnerable state where roses grow unseen and the fragrance is not enjoyed.

Days slipped by, and life became a waiting room; a faint memory haunting of a happiness that called from somewhere where life was lived. And as the body rebels and too much is measured in the long hours that pass, I wondered what brought me to such a place for this, and I pondered on whether I was living my own doom and could I not escape?...

&, the systems in the footprints have metaphysical allergies, so be it, and such like and amen, God bless the queen.

Now, the summit was reached on the 3rd tapping, to find a lot of meaning, and this was the way of it, as you do, when on a quest; but if when therefore meanwhile and the bin tang market of it all there is a space near to the long footbridge to the moon then take it and never let it be said that the space is lacking; hmm.

I made a paper aeroplane and launched it into the outside. Moments later a passer-by pulled it out of their hair and read the words written on it: Have to take a break, see you later, bye for now, and, send me a post card. The passer-by walked on wondering if it was a message their them.

Can’t make sense of it all? The moon’s a dream in the Maya of everything. The festival’s in danger of collapse, and there’s chalk marks everywhere from ones who’ve been here before. Why wait? This place is not for you. Don’t find a grave someplace to fill your belly. You know! And that’s all it takes to get out of here. Slip loose. I think I will have a little five minutes, maybe an hour, feeling rather tired....

Images from Pixabay