I find myself far too often, in the land of surreal fever dreams.
This paradigm is confusing, its orientation boggles the mind and I begin to sweat.
The chimp in drag walks by upright and smiles, maybe he says something too.
I can’t recall.
I’m taken to a place of no description, expected to perform some task, to some standard –
For my troubles and at the overseers great expense, I’m gifted a rather underwhelming amount of
It’s marvellous the way I’m ferried to and from various prisons, becoming my own visitor.
If it wasn’t for all these worthless possessions I seem to have acquired, during my ventures
I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.
I now have 15 snow globes.
I think that’s a healthy amount.
My friends are impressed and I feel at ease.
The magic box that spews extravagant colours and sounds, seems to do a convincing job of sedating my concerns, with some sort of ferocious, bukake-esque, brain invasion.
So I sit on my throne and vicariously live through the pleasant images.
Sometimes the box recommends I purchase an overpriced and redundant item
At which point I begin to convulse, as if the complete soundtrack of the 80’s hit my subconscious, in the form of an awesome hypnotic wave.
I think I’ll get myself another snow globe.
When I retire to my slumber pit, before the warp drive jump to sunrise, I reflect on the day gone by, the weeks and the years.
How fast time flies when you labour for nothing, compromise on everything, gain something you never needed and hope to be somewhere else, sooner rather than later.
But later is now, yesterday is today, the present has served you dinner and its gone cold, time is fluid and the glass is half empty. So you cannot quench your thirst, nor can you satisfy your hunger.
All you can do is carry on and wonder why it snows so sporadically.