CHAPTER II FRAGMENTS


In love with the dream the hopscotch stream to uncover discover the real world behind the veil the parts that walk higher than shadows and meadows hide in this kind of undisturbed life of daring pioneering.

My head is clearing and I know what I want, the undiscoverable, the unachievable, the parts that we say are all in our heads but the time is ungluing.

The truth is I’m looking for myself in the incomplete moments and transient glimpses of something love, surrender in the moment discover of the present tense we know we can go anywhere we want yet we seldom chance the opportunity to go here here here and wherever inside the rhyme is all in my head and the flow is something dreadful but I love it anyways in the here skipping beats making points incomplete I don’t need anything other than me to tell myself what to do and what to see and isn’t that remarkably tantalizing, romantic, powerful where I can control the threads that surround me and become something better than I thought I could be because I forget myself in these daydreams and perhaps that’s the best thing because I am more than myself, my perspective, my unending capacity to devour all that I desire more more more every moment a new thing to explore to my head into my eyes skipping grazing devouring, probably crazy but having tons of fun and that’s all that matters in the long run is the knowing that the flow comes from playing around and never stopping to get to the next grand adventure exploit whether it’s in a town or the middle of the night in the nowhere we tell ourselves to fear because we don’t know what’s there.

The thing about the flow is that it goes wherever it will choose to go and control just makes it go wonky crooked whirling messes but no bother trying to get it fixed there’s points like that everywhere when we look with flipped perspectives our vision skewed but always, always back to the new the grand the conquest of new lands dreamed and undreamed, terribly personal and unseen completely sometimes just a memory or a construct of a memory; it will never be the same as the real thing and the reality will never be the same as the fantasy.

 

Whoops, wrong turn. What to do now but move on? Maybe I’ll still get to where I’m going, everyone will just be missing their faces or something.

I don’t really get to decide where I go.

I used to think I did– train hopping at 4 am to get from one state to the other– but sometimes you can’t plan where you end up. I certainly haven’t.

I’m okay with that though, really. Once you get over not knowing where you are, not being able to find your way back and you start meeting so many strange and fascinating beings– well, I can make my way around.

For how long?

…Well, I’m not really sure of how long I’ve been doing this to begin with. I don’t think about it much, why would I when there’s so many mountains to climb and underground civilizations to discover and sunsets to see? Going home doesn’t really matter to me. Everything here is much more colorful than I was, anyway….

Categories: book

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