I sit in a white cell… It’s blindingly white the way that there is no depiction of depth, height, corners its like the other end of the spectrum of absolute darkness. The exception being that I can seen myself. I see myself from a 3rd person perspective looking down at me sitting on the floor knees curled up forearms resting on my knees and my head on my arms. Im not crying or sad I’m just board as well as lazy. I feel as though I am sitting on infinite potential but I have no desire to move. My perspective slips into my body.
The beginning of “My Sharona comes on.” I wonder if she was black? Im wearing mid-thigh cream colored shorts but my body is that of when I was 7 years old. skin and bones my long bleach blonde hair sits on my head. I lift my head up and my sight is hindered to the confines of my aviator style glasses but with clear lenses. I feel a sense of sorrow but it comes from no where just an inner brooding. So I stand up and I look down at my shoes. Their Dirty “Payless” brand basketball shoes, loose off white tube socks, un-matching in the color of the stripes red on the right foot yellow on the left. I jump up start lightly jogging in place rolling my neck and shaking out my arms. I snarl and snap akin to the way a big cat would but its with full theatrics from the neck up… continue running in place.
I beat my chest with my fist and give the call of Tarzan but my voice is that of the Iconic sound from Tarzan. Even though I know it doesn’t match my 7 year old body but I know it came from within side of me.continue running in place…
I stop, right knee starts to bend, weight shifts to my center of gravity “BANG” the sound of a pistol fires. I take off sprinting and on my first stride. I am transported/transformed into the 17 years old version of myself and I am sprinting on my high school track wearing my white and blue track uniform. I am running as hard and fast as I can. My body feels so clean and pure. There is an unknown hunger inside me as I move around the track. I feel now as though there is a darkness gaining momentum behind me but I am undaunted I scour and explode with a burst of speed that i didn’t know was inside me. As I round the final corner and move into the straight away even though the stands are visibly empty I can hear imaginary cheers as I come to the finish line. I lower my head and slam into the tape like a brick wall shattering the entire reality into glass shards that that explode and fall. Returning me to my white room but I am now im 18 year’s old with a medal around my neck taking in deep breaths puffing out my chest. ANGRY
“ROAR!!!” an evil snarled face almost sinister as I walk around in a circle with hate dumping out of my pours. I see a small flower starting to grow out of the floor and It softens me for a second so I bend down pluck it. I exam it then smush it between my fingers and the hate is gone. Then the entire white reality gives birth to the small yellow flowers and Im in the mountains laying in a field of flowers
HAPPY
Now as a full grown man in Bavarian style Lederhosen my smile is big and charming. When I stand I am in a beer tent, Stein in hand singing
“Ein Prosit, ein Prosit
Der Gemütlichkeit
Ein Prosit, ein Prosit
Der Gemütlichkeit”- in a sea of people laughing and happy.
“eins, zwei, drei, G’SUFFA”
I Begin to chug my liter of of beer looking into the stein as It empties it goes from light to black around me.
My initial reaction is SCARED but that is quickly replaced by hate. I am 28 Fully muscled on a battlefield at night that was once a cobble-stoned street. I look down in my right hand I see Im holding the pistol grip of an AR-15 and without thinking I place the butt-stock in my shoulder and bring the business end of the weapon up… I begin to hunt with a sense of purpose. I feel 35 with leathered and worn skin, making hand and arm signals to others. Even though I cannot see them I know they are there. I move down the street with a heightened since of reality. My body is alive my heart rate stable but my skin feeling electric.
EXCITED as I engage my weapon. Time slows and my consciousness rides along with every bullet that punches through the skin and bones of my enemy. Breaking and splintering them as I punch through the now shocked and damaged body. My consciousness overtakes it as it falls and turns into the scarred landscape of a destroyed city. As people move about from one place to the next shuffling about like rats that are equally scared but driven to scavenge at what they can except not for hunger but to fulfill their glutinous nature. As my consciousness takes in the scared landscape it searches the darkness looking for something beautiful to insert itself into. It moves picks up speed and gains distance from the gruesome horror left behind I can feel the wind and the light rip past me until. I continue to punch through the darkness and back into the white room but this time as an old man sitting on the floor the same as in my youth but wearing a hospital gown the back is open and my bare, liver spotted ass sits cold on the surface of what feels like marble. I lean my head back and begin to laugh in such a way that is overpowering hearty and full. I close my eyes and its black.
beauxtalks 