Schizophrenica

Deliriously…

One way round the square.

In town , I wondered back the other way in a triangle.

Until I realised I was nowhere where I started. Lost, but not one to sit on my hands and shiver, I pushed off through the water.

Who knew that the sea would rise today, but I never talk to Who.

I started killing time, here, there, and soon a wash of blood was all around me. Anxiety set in… The cops would follow that like a trail of strawberry doughnuts. Perhaps I should hitch a ride on this passing rain cloud.

I bet he’s the one causing all the trouble, I thought to no one in particular, though several people replied, hypothesising wildly about faulty physics.

I took the reins, keen to get out of this strange place; I must surely need to breathe soon.

Above began to take on an orange hue, but he was sorely outclassed and beaten to a pulp.

In the confusion I escaped, and found myself coughing my lungs up onto a sandy shore. I decided to keep them on the outside – the prospect of getting them back in somewhat worrying; it was quite fun to watch them inflate anyway.

Swinging my lungs in front of me as I whistled a song about a cat, I trudged, dripping along the beach. It was hot and the rain cloud melted away in wisps of steam. I thought it must be time for tea.

I looked up…

Only to behold the bird’s-eye-view of a busy city, stretching away across what I thought was, ’til very recently, the sky. There were bowler-hatted business men, bustling along with brollys; whores in cat-suits prowling the curbs; wasters, winners, wallys, and weirdos; traders, tigers, traffic, and tarts.

Gravity took hold and I plummeted skygroundwards, somewhat annoyed that I’d missed my tea. Before annoyance could bloom into teeth-shattering rage, I landed – wumph!- on luscious, soft, blue grass, the kind that mother used to knit. I tried to draw in a surprised gasp, but I’d left my lungs on the beach.

“Hello, Stranger.”

I looked round. Then I decided I didn’t like looking round so I tried very hard to make myself look like me again. Meanwhile, the owner of the voice that had just addressed me slid into view. She was beautiful, with long dark hair, and a Mercedes called Alan. She beckoned me into the boot of the car which was cavernous and without limits.

We fell, twisting and turning, our bodies stretching and curling around each other until we quite resembled great dragons, spitting fire into the darkness and lashing the air with our wings. Intoxicated and aroused, we began to bite and claw at one another’s scales, reveling in ecstasy as creatures without predator or end.

Like falling leaves, our scales of gold and silver fell, glinting and sparkling in the fiery light of our communion. The passionate fires began to consume the very fabric of being, destroying and raging against the act of pure creation, until at the very peak of all, the spasms of our joy reduced the universe to tatters streaming in the wind of non-existence, churning, spiraling ever closer to the central cause. Then even our great forms began to evaporate, blistering in a heat that wasn’t there, before all, including us, vanished, like the dot of an old TV being turned off…

A drum beat, distant, tribal, inescapable; a faint light was seen by no one, and in that light a naked woman sat at the centre of everywhere… and began again.

psychedelic-crash-face

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