“There is no place safe in this increasingly small world.”
“No place safe, indeed…”
And I was drinking water, and I needed it, but I wanted not to want, and yet it is every part of me, the physicality of wonder at a sea, a paradox:
I’ve seen the world, the world’s got nothing for me, and they say the world’s the only way to the Light. Life is short, and I process slow. We need to stop lying to ourselves: when colors mix, it’s not the rainbow but brown, brown dirt. The earth is full of dirt, and we love to hate the rain.
And that was on the left. I just happened to look up at the screen. I was reading Ellison. I have to finish what I started, and I process slow. I pushed myself to come here, to move my body, and I always sleep in, my body doesn’t wake up, no circadian rhythm, only dreams of car crashes.
And the screen to my right offered the other side of the world: Kardashians in tight black, gushing, and it clicked. We need Cosmopolitan magazine, 10 MOVES TO MAKE HIM LOVE, no I’m sorry, WANT YOU, otherwise the left screen would say, here’s a list of the people who jumped off buildings today. It started as a joke, but when they got up there, they saw the sky for the first time. They saw their children in the distance spinning around so fast on that piece of metal in the wood chips. The air was pink, but it smelled of fake clouds, and once they thought those gas bubbles were dancing. Their children will find out when they stop spinning and their adrenaline stops whirling, and then nasuea. But we must move our legs fast enough to break a sweat—the hearts increased pumping of blood keeps us stronger, healthier. So instead, they fall, just to see what it’s like, because tight clothes didn’t do the trick anymore, and it’s too late, and someone comes to pray over a body that never prayed while its eyes weren’t closed.