On The Run
I haven’t had the time (or inspiration) to write much recently, so I decided to go for something free-style. I’d be curious to hear what you think this rant means, if anything at all….
Run. By the wind when it raises its voice into a screaming tempest, run. Run and hide, hide behind the trees, hide behind your fears, hide behind the frantic scribble of your pen.
Smoke surrounds me, red-tinged smoke that burns my lungs but whisks me away. I draw a puff, sucking at it like a leech, feeling the haze invade my consciousness, a pinprick of thought. The high is plush, a flying carpet, long and furry like a canine’s tongue, and I ride on it, ride high, hiding in the depths of self.
The haze is she, and I hide behind her thoughts, quietly fueling the bonfire of sorrow, watching it blaze higher and higher until I can no longer see the tongues of flame at its summit. She walks my fantasies, brandishing the flag of victory. I push away the thought that she’s a puppet I hold the strings to, and take another red-tinged drag, breathing it in deep.
She called the other day, and I panicked. I saw the bonfire dying. I quickly hung up and climbed onto the magic carpet, nurturing her thoughts into a dizzying spiral. I am a magician and she my hat, my wand, my cauldron, my everything.
I hide. Behind sociopathic aggression that feels it will shatter a stoppered bottle. I look around me behind a veil of rage, a veil of smoke-tinged red, a veil flickering with the deep red of the fire. Then someone says hi, and I smile, the veil suddenly never having existed.
I run, and I hide. It’s no easy task, you see, but it carries a reward of its own. The reward of escape. The reward of self-annihilation.
This is a beauty. The strength of your work is always in it’s superior articulation and amazing cohesion.
Noor
Awesome. U rant well!
…long and furry like a canine???s tongue…
Loved this description, you certainly have the gift of words. I came back today after a while, and realized I missed this a lot.