Bliss

Two hundred pounds of steal, swift curvilinear metallic dropped; an anvil. CRUNCH! Sleep almost severed!.....

Again...

Ten pounds, arcing lines of air, a fleeting path through the atmosphere, sledge hammer, pure sledge, iron, pig iron, the heaviest iron, heavier than gravity, bearing down like a white knuckle viking. SLAM! Tenuous tendrils of sleep hanging on, barely hanging on....

Once more....

Five pounds, a paisley red earthen geometric cube, blotted with tiny subterranean subterfuge craters, heaved through the air; target? The complete obliteration of sleep. A brick, baked by the sun and flying directly towards your sunny day. CRASH! The final straw, awaken! Two pound eyelids, they sure make'em heavy these days. Life is upon you, stare at the ceiling...blink...rude awakening...blink again...

"Fuck! I really to need to change my alarm"......swat the button.......9 more minutes of bliss.

Ode to the Iconic Gin and Tonic

Drowning in sarcasm,
steeped in juniper,
jet fuel jig for the jolly, gin and tonic, you are my folly.

The Great

Shifty...can't sit still, on the edge of utter madness. No ergonomic-form-fitting-adjustable anything could comfort the ass or ease the mind, the soul, the muscles, the drive, the drive to move, to be outside, stare at the air and dive into the stillness, the openness that is open air. Outside, that's what I am talking about, the outdoors, The Great, more than great, there are no words to describe it......all you can do is be silent, breath; light, shadows, wind, heartbeat; then scream at the top of your lungs and run. Running isn't a proper description, you're an animal, animals don't run, they move, they flow, they glide, they glissade, they leap. Eyes squinted, the sun is bright, "haven't seen you in awhile"; tiny slits that replace the fully dilated pupils that once were; replace the zombie, replace the glazed over porcelain dumbfoundedness that is. This is wake up time! No time for short nap carpets, digital phosphorescent green grass screen savers, ergonomic-wrist-conforming-finger-appeasing keyboard configuration workstations, pods, printers, page ups, page downs, cubicle cluster-fuck, water cooler droolers. Control-alt-delete can't compete with blue, the deep blue azure of the ocean, pale blue abyss vastness of sky.

Death to the thinking brain

Yesterday was long, yes I will admit that, I try not to admit when a day is long because some time near in the future, hiding behind the filing cabinet, maybe stored in the deep crevices of a three whole punch or hidden amongst the fuzz and goo and fragments of chips, salsa, Cheetos, donut sprinkles, dead skin-fingernail-funk-knuckle-scab fragments beneath my keyboard keys lying in wait; there is a chance that another worse and longer day is in store. This, my friend, was yesterday's meeting. Death to the thinking brain; sinara suckers, brain checked out; passport in hand, yellow flowered Hawaiian shirt flowing loosely and a left cerebral cortex wrapped so helplessly around a cocktail glass tipped and topped with a luscious red colored slippery beverage and garnished with the tiniest little umbrella and a jungle of fruit stems staggering about. One ticket to paradise, far away from here. Heaven on earth with an onion slice.....