When the time comes one day I will race to the top of the skies and freeze my eyes shut in space. It will be cold and I may not survive but it will be worth it to see the planet in such an innocent and defenseless position. I might squish it between my thumb and forefinger like a red ant, I might spare it and fall asleep. I think I would rather travel to Mercury and build a home there out of Ash and soot, maybe burrow into the rock and look for a place to start a family there. I think when I hear the water rush through my brain and let the bells shatter my eyes and smack on my eardrums so loud it makes me nauseous, it proves something about myself. But what?
At the age of twelve I had once strolled through the valley of the underground skeleton and took a job steering a very thin gondola. I watched the demons who rode them be romantic, I watched the fallen angels do what they had suppressed, I watched humans be humans. When I watched they did not care, they enjoyed it, they enjoyed the audience. I ran into rocks and nearly tipped once, but they did not care, they were nice. I wish the light would've been that nice, maybe I would've payed more attention in school, maybe I would have some more passion for things, maybe I would be much more humble. I take things for granted but one day this gondola will tip and take me to a grave so dark I will remember nothing but the bony molasses that I had drowned in.
I was old when a flowery young angel looked at me with eyes that screamed. She asked me to kill her but I refused, she was too beautiful. She asked me instead to put a knife in her hand and push on her forearm in such a manner that would impale herself. To this I refused again, and we sat and smiled and spun and smoked until our eyes bled dark crimson from corner to corner. To this we celebrated in high spirits.
It was a very dull day in the super center, so dull in fact that even the dogs yawned as they shopped for ties and suits. It was oftentimes that the dogs barked orders at the lazy cats behind the counters who counted their coins and looked at jewelery that was too expensive for them to afford. I miss the fat cat that used to do nothing but sit on the bench and wait for her grandchildren to be done with their shopping, I miss that feeble empty stare in her eyes as she watched the dogs and cats pass, and the pelicans flop and the chipmunks dance, whirring around her and unintentionally insulting her lack of esteem and ability. Sometimes if you looked close, past the leathery face and frigid eyes, the gawking, drooling feline had a beautiful soul behind it, that danced so wildly and so passionately you would think that she may be the heiress of God himself. It was a gray Tuesday when she died, hungry and dead on the cold tile while her granddaughters were trying on pump heels.
I regret the dirt I have rolled in to migrate this far out of our true home. One day we will sit in a shrine of green marble, of clay pillars and of brilliant ebony incantations, we will be no longer slaves to ourselves and what we feel to be right and wrong. We will be free, and we will roam the earth as free people, smiling from ear to ear for the world to see. Once we have done that then maybe we will return home and tell the others of what we have done, maybe we will be heroes and change the world forever, out of the gray pit boss who runs it with steel in his eyes and with fire dancing on his forked tongue. Maybe one day we will do that.
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