Lookout towers

TWO LOOKOUT TOWERS

I wanted to be famous, but instead, I became an idea in your head. I remained there begging you to take me back. My sensory machine breathes somewhere nearby. But remember, this is still me. As a whole, “me” is a cruelty, cruelty’s sensory machine. An instrument of your worst nightmares. That instrument keeps a suitcase behind the door ( just in case) with viable gear.

I will reconcile that headline. I’m going to the space upstairs on the working table atop the mad mess. My senior supervisor had ugly disagreements with me two years ago. He is a reign in his own regime in the small territory. He keeps a rifle under the table in the living room.

I’m scared of him.

 He is a  professional. There are also various vats for sale in his basement. If my sensory machine leaves the plastic door open, be sure the supervisor will take action. I am not supposed to quarrel with supervisors.

I wanted to be famous, a famous singer, a rock star. Instead, I am an idea in your head, but, more than that, I am the concept delivered by the sensory machine, so there we are, connected in a confusing cloud of misconceptions and broken language. I am talking about a house. A home, cheaply made and unstable. I have no memory of the first time and how much time has been left in there, sometimes in and out, in and out, in and out. Inside the fridge, my mind caught the remains of a cheese salad in a plastic container and two cartons of milk: three lemons, some caskets with homemade marmalade, cherry and strawberry, and fig syrup. 

That’s my perfect haunt, the outer vat, keeping my beliefs clean from the time that has passed through these windows. Are we stable in our motion? Do we move while keeping still? Actions have to be done constantly, so we have no fuckin control of anything. I have to talk and tell you a story; it’s just a must. 

A common obstacle is time and distance, but if time doesn’t exist, there is no distance either. Then, our standard block is moving in a different direction.

Today, there is lamb with boiled potatoes and a green salad, which I’ll eat alone. Or did I just eat? I am so dull.