Pets die before their owners most of the time.
That’s why I don’t like pets.
It was so windy last night.
As I took out the bins.
The landfill. The human stain.
I looked at the moon.
It was luminous. That’s a word for it.
The trees, bent and creaked.
The leaves like a waterfall.
Rushing and uncountable.
And I thought; “How could anyone understand all of what nature is”.
I felt like this gusty night was a reminder that our perception,
our lives are unfulfilled. Putty. Microscopic.
I couldn’t comprehend what was going on around me.
The natural forces.
If something completely unheralded happened.
I would have stood, just as awestruck.
I don’t know why.
I feel like I didn’t understand the world or its natural processes.
To think I can use the words.
The word nature to capture my worthless state.
Hyper aware. Afraid. Fearful. Aghast. Spellbound. Unknowing. Wowed.
Ghoulish eyes. Growling stomach.
And the howl of the wind.
The primal forces, ripping through the landscape.
Where has this unprecedented wind come from.
Explain it to me so that I might go indoors and be content on this sliver of information.
It is the big bad wolf,
My house of straw, sticks or bricks.
If it all comes crumbling down. Nothing.
I realised yesterday that so many deaths are unexpected.
My own. I wondered if it would be sudden.
I hoped not.
Talking about it feels strange. Like there’s a taboo there.
Why am I experiencing the “talking about a taboo” feeling.
What is that.
I will die.
It will be unexpected.
I can’t plan it.
It goes against my programming.
And that is not a program I wish to break.
My rules. I want to break them all.
I wish to be greedy, in the most blessed of ways.
I wish to share.
But not my car with Megan.
She’s American, a woman, and blonde.
I feel like she would crash and kill us.
I think that.
I feel that.
There is something wrong with me.
Why do I have there problems.
How can I function in society with these prejudices.
What kind of person am I?
Do I make an issue of my problems? Not at all.
Do I like to accept people for who they are?
For the most part yes.
You do what you want to do in this life.
If it doesn’t effect others. Good.
If it has a negative impact on people’s lives, their health,
How close they are to ritual death. Then I will act.
Act. Do. Change state.
Attack, react. Act upon.
I am an actor.
A liar. A thief and wishful beggar.
I sit for long hours writing things that do not matter to the world, but matter to me.
I am faced with my own personal problems to which most people would shrug.
I can offer little insight.
I see a lot of problems.
I see the see-saw.
The cause and the effect.
The follow-on problems.
The missed ideas.
That unturned stone.
Why have you come to me with this problem.
Let inconsistency be your god, like it is mine.
I promised myself to take a photo of every meal.
It was a great idea, I thought.
One day, less than 24 hours later. The idea was gone,
Not made a part of myself.
Held, flirted with.
Then flung aside.
The behaviour, the effort, the consistency cast aside.
Shoved from the doorway of my being and forgotten.
Left to be taken by the howling wind.
Natures original wolves.
That which the dogs croon for.
Their god is the wind.
The song of movement, action, displacement.
Taker, shifter, destroyer, dissolver, eroder, changer, shaper.
Like the sand lines,
The leaves clatter, shake and spit.
Threes bending and breaking.
Littering their own roots to be tumbled, roiled and rolled away.
over and over, around and round. The wind delivers where it pleases.
Acting on its own choice, feel, want of running, flowing freedom.
And I stand there, un-understanding.