He doodled carelessly whatever came to mind.
The paper was too obviously saturated with triangles
dots, waves, squares, instead of what he would regularly jot down.
"Explore the complications of the Earth, but do
not dwell in the hallways of particles and waves."
You could see his tongue motioning the T's and L's and his lips folding to
form the V's and P's and F's, all in silence. Every word bounced inside the walls of his head, he could not follow. He struggled concentrating on the meaning of all this. He wrote it down next to his doodles. There was a disconnection between mind/body/brain. Our friend had been feeling this way for days. The doodles were a mere representation of the static in his head. It's not that his mind was blank. It was just too much. To catch a single thought was a feat. He would have to be quick, open his hand and snatch one. Everytime he tried, his grasp was too hard. The thought would fragment.
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Her lips tactically moved, dressed in red, swift, precise. They called him to their trickery and mischief. But like everything drenched in brightness; "Oh Peligro!"
He calmed his soul looking to escape from whatever chained his eyes, to the pictures in his brain. Gestalt missed sexual attraction in his theory. He would have to snap his neck off to unchain. Her eyes motioned him to pour more. It seemed like the better idea, to soften the brick wall. After all, it was what stood between them. It never did soften, it never could anyway. He just beat his head against it and stared from the windows of his eyes. The conversation could go on all night long. He didn't mind feeling like he did. Ateast he felt something, and had someone beautiful to look at while feeling miserable. He gulped his glass of wine, knowing the harm he was doing to his liver. He smiled. It softened the harsh saw of thoughts and worries. Bottom line: He wanted her breath on his skin, but he couldn't have it. All the more reason to want something. Unattainability builds up expectations, false hopes,
alternate worlds. He lived in this alternate world for a little while. He smiled.
"What are you smiling about?"
He felt like a child, caught awake on a school night.
"Just something I remembered. I'll tell you later, go on."
"I think you also know Veronica and Jay, " she said, lacking curiosity.
"I know Jay," he said unenthused.
"They asked me and my boyfriend to appear in their music video they're shooting for..." she continued.
The words just reverberated into background noise. Our friend, Samuel, Sammy, Sandman, the day dreamer, felt his body sink into the chair. He felt the wine working its magic in his cerebral cortex, his libmic system (especially), and his hypothalamus. He welcomed it. In fact, he needed it. It would surpress the pain from beating his head with the brick wall between their souls.
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A good enough 50 degrees farenheit outside, slight fog, white atmosphere, birds chirping, some dogs barking far away, they all painted a quaint suburban picture. Chilly. Early. The suave chill crept up Sam's bedsheets. It wrapped his legs and caressed his cheeks. He opened one eye. He delicately grasped a thought with his hand. It didn't shatter. "I have to wake up" With one eye opened, face down swiming in his black and red sheet/comforter combo, Sam flipped over. He rubbed his face, feeling his soft smidgen of facial hair. He sat right up on his bed, cracked open the curtains a little bit. He always liked his room so dark. It helped him sleep. Thoughts don't linger as much in the dark. He stood up, peaking through the curtain. White sun dressed his bare chest, and static his brain. He could only remember short scenes from the previous night. He remembered the terra-cotta colored patio, the christmas lights that surrounded the low walls, the metal chairs. He could remember seeing some of the brighter stars. The wine. Red. Smiles.
The paper was too obviously saturated with triangles
dots, waves, squares, instead of what he would regularly jot down.
"Explore the complications of the Earth, but do
not dwell in the hallways of particles and waves."
You could see his tongue motioning the T's and L's and his lips folding to
form the V's and P's and F's, all in silence. Every word bounced inside the walls of his head, he could not follow. He struggled concentrating on the meaning of all this. He wrote it down next to his doodles. There was a disconnection between mind/body/brain. Our friend had been feeling this way for days. The doodles were a mere representation of the static in his head. It's not that his mind was blank. It was just too much. To catch a single thought was a feat. He would have to be quick, open his hand and snatch one. Everytime he tried, his grasp was too hard. The thought would fragment.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Her lips tactically moved, dressed in red, swift, precise. They called him to their trickery and mischief. But like everything drenched in brightness; "Oh Peligro!"
He calmed his soul looking to escape from whatever chained his eyes, to the pictures in his brain. Gestalt missed sexual attraction in his theory. He would have to snap his neck off to unchain. Her eyes motioned him to pour more. It seemed like the better idea, to soften the brick wall. After all, it was what stood between them. It never did soften, it never could anyway. He just beat his head against it and stared from the windows of his eyes. The conversation could go on all night long. He didn't mind feeling like he did. Ateast he felt something, and had someone beautiful to look at while feeling miserable. He gulped his glass of wine, knowing the harm he was doing to his liver. He smiled. It softened the harsh saw of thoughts and worries. Bottom line: He wanted her breath on his skin, but he couldn't have it. All the more reason to want something. Unattainability builds up expectations, false hopes,
alternate worlds. He lived in this alternate world for a little while. He smiled.
"What are you smiling about?"
He felt like a child, caught awake on a school night.
"Just something I remembered. I'll tell you later, go on."
"I think you also know Veronica and Jay, " she said, lacking curiosity.
"I know Jay," he said unenthused.
"They asked me and my boyfriend to appear in their music video they're shooting for..." she continued.
The words just reverberated into background noise. Our friend, Samuel, Sammy, Sandman, the day dreamer, felt his body sink into the chair. He felt the wine working its magic in his cerebral cortex, his libmic system (especially), and his hypothalamus. He welcomed it. In fact, he needed it. It would surpress the pain from beating his head with the brick wall between their souls.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A good enough 50 degrees farenheit outside, slight fog, white atmosphere, birds chirping, some dogs barking far away, they all painted a quaint suburban picture. Chilly. Early. The suave chill crept up Sam's bedsheets. It wrapped his legs and caressed his cheeks. He opened one eye. He delicately grasped a thought with his hand. It didn't shatter. "I have to wake up" With one eye opened, face down swiming in his black and red sheet/comforter combo, Sam flipped over. He rubbed his face, feeling his soft smidgen of facial hair. He sat right up on his bed, cracked open the curtains a little bit. He always liked his room so dark. It helped him sleep. Thoughts don't linger as much in the dark. He stood up, peaking through the curtain. White sun dressed his bare chest, and static his brain. He could only remember short scenes from the previous night. He remembered the terra-cotta colored patio, the christmas lights that surrounded the low walls, the metal chairs. He could remember seeing some of the brighter stars. The wine. Red. Smiles.
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