ədˈmäniSH

by illimitableoceanofinexplicability

.

The Introduction

.

Have you, while busy with your day to day activities (whatever they may be) felt as if things (that is the kind of feeling one has about their existence) in general could use a little revitalizing? Perhaps you’re in need of, like a well cared for automobile, a thorough ‘detailing’, instead of the drive thru wash of popular culture, and over the counter medicines you immerse yourself in daily to hide from the glaring, burning light of what is and what always shall be long after you are scattered in the wind never to be ever, not ever, again? Ha! Haven’t we all?! Most assuredly, I say, and you, unless a complete imbecile, shall agree with me wholeheartedly and make to shake my hand most vigorously in gratitude for my, once again, setting you straight only to be rebuked with a long explanation about the overall superiority of the fist bump.

 

.

IMG_0905

.

The Story

.

You had, as had many before you (and many more will at other times), hoped desperately that this (or other things relatively the same leading to comparable results) would have been the end of it only to find (like waking from one fevered night terror into another more terrifying than that) not only had it not ended, but it will, in all likelihood, continue on indefinitely. Yes, I know, I do well know, I tell you nothing that you do not yourself well know already, or had once suspected, though did your best to deny only to find yourself wide eyed and staring at the endlessly twisting shadows surrounding you, mocking you, denying your every attempt at peaceful slumber until, mercifully, did the sun’s first rays of light disperse their dark tentacles from about you only to, in its pitiless way, burn the image of all that lie ahead upon the insides of your eyelids! Ha! That happens to the best of us though, doesn’t it? Sure it does, I say to you, staring intently into your eyes, and then beyond them into the deepest recesses of that thing curled in the darkened corner weeping in despair, that fetid, neglected disturbing mass you, because for various reasons possibly including though not limited to, your upbringing, call your soul!

.

Epilogue

.

Well, that about does it, don’t you think? No need to beat that anymore as it’s well dead for sure. Not a breath of life left to squeeze from its lungs, I’d say. But, what is to be done? I have no doubt you wonder, and do not in the least hold you in contempt for as it is, as is said, “wholly natural” for one to do just that. Nothing at all wrong with it, not a thing.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Advertisements