THE INCINERATED DARKNESS

Well, it’s gone, it’s all over, the low-low rates, the come to jesus moments

re-fi now, not later, the loan rate buy-down for the borrower, and the broker

pocketing a few spare ribs into his pocket, what, no corn for a side dish, ah well.

the heavy-handed bongo slaps of time bashing ever onward. It was a long time for me

A long time, living in dread, in fear of the mortgage loan rates going up, and my bread and butter

life going down the drain with it, this was it, all I could ever be, for a thousand lifetimes, the moving schlep always on the move to the next place and then the next

So OK, so now the moment has come,

I’m glad it’s over, at least for now, less twists and turns in this thrill ride, less midnight runs, the calm before the storm begins again, OK what is it this time ?, as I’m halfway out the door.

I’m glad for now, glad to not be a human doing and that’s it. Free from laying on the mattress staring at the ceiling, fury drumming in my head, relieved to be still, no oomph to get up, spending my hard earned bread on massage, herbal therapy, seers showing me when my tide would turn, my fortunes would change, leading to a greener pasture, somewhere in time, the place I never get to, only for a little while and then moving on, up and at it, oh my achin’ back, my little car just grazed by debris on the freeway coming from somewhere ahead, how did i end up here, anyway ?

So the seagulls overhead are begging for food, and I’m closing my trunk lid, leaving the stuff in there, the papers, the promises , the declarations , the acknowls., the certs, ready to sort out and shuffle through after I sleep, and I have my coffee, boy do I need a shower.

But now it’s quiet, and the silence is whispering to me, as I peel off my sweaty clothes , the desert air blowing in the windows, grit at the back of my throat, I pull the blankets up over my head, my overamped skull hits the pillow, the lights from all the shiny cars hitting my brain from the rear-view mirror even now, my body still on vibro-tate, hitting the curves, the potholes on the desert freeway home

I notice a little bitty shadow of a teeny hunk of something that must’ve landed from the air to the bed, I swipe it onto the floor, dead or alive, the incinerated darkness beginning to engulf me as i drift off, never to be seen again.

Related Articles

Responses

Your email address will not be published.