The Narrator Awaits...

© copyright 1996-2009 by Michael G. Breece



IN THE DARKEST CREVICE OF THE MIND...ONE WILL FIND...

The eye of life had, at once, opened. To be seen, were dancing monkey's...with party hats on their heads and smiles splattered across their faces. Meaning...or memory? Neither were present. All to be spent on a void.

…atmospheric changing of the guard…

"Is there nothing? Is there nothing to be thought?”

With the will of a nation on one's shoulders...all is left to do is snap...like a twig, I am washed out to the vastness of societal bliss.

"And was the answer, yes?"

I am paralysed by the answers, they stalk me in my sleep. I awake to find cold sweat residing between my naked skin and the blanket that adorns the bed.

The purest of fears...I notice my face in the mirror. Covered by deception, it is...I turn away.

…atmospheric pressure building…

I step into the brightness of day...a million eyes beating down my path. I do not hesitate...swift movements only remain. To the right of me stands a freshly painted street sign...dripping, it states: BEWARE. To the left...a small child sits on the street corner with her head in her hands...sobbing uncontrollably.

"Find! The answers to the fluorescence of blue."
I continue stepping.

A cold wind reveals itself...the whispering of a hundred lost souls transfer their knowledge from one ear to the other...making no attempt to visit, their endless journey continues. And so must I.

Hovering over-head, a freshly painted gas station, no mention or warning as "BEWARE". The attendants notice nothing, they sit on wooden stools suspended in air...with their feet on grey metal desks, reading tabloid magazines, drinking carbonated beverages and smoking cigarettes.

A small, circular, red flashing light appears before me. I push it with my right index finger. My body remains still, while my essence is transported to a marbled existence.

A voice is thought, "Behind the Truth thereby lies a falsehood hidden to the naked eye..."

I am sent to a leaf still attached to a tree that directs me to a hood of a jacket draped across the shoulders of a little boy on a bicycle. The small child pedals to a park bench in order to tie his shoe. I gently sway back and forth softly landing in a green sea of bristle.

I sense that a canine is about to approach...taking the shape of human form, I become erect. With squirrel firmly in mouth, the white canine strolls past with an air of superiority. The park benches, three in total, scurry off with all the delight of a mid-day sleep as the sound of rain kisses pavement.

Reaching down...

"It is not in one's best interest to partake in an activity as such!"

I decapitate a lone dandelion. Reaching into my left pocket, I replace the yellowed head of the flower with a coin. The deceptive face of value steadily gazes up at me as I begin making my way from the park.

The nearest street sign reads: youdobelieve

The automobiles care not for the comfort of strangers. Speaking of nothing more than remote-controlled dreams, their masters create one enormous heap of metal the color of rainbows. Parking meters, no longer aware of their own existence, relieve themselves of all the pent-up guilt by expressions of kindness and humility...they hand me a coin.

Into the air, I toss the coin. A dove lands to it's death before me. Arms out-stretched, I clutch the emblem of innocence...advocate of peace...and search a form of communication. The bird dangles from my left hand.

Phone call transports messages conveying rotten flesh transmitting live to the grey people. Calculated responses over ripples of static, they speak of times lost...souls forgotten...about fertilized centipedes with philosophical minds that conjured nomadic ants to be mistaken for Gods.

Blue skies represent futility in the minds of the grey. Today, the sun remains nauseatingly out, about and on it's merry way.

The telephone signals a dial tone. It swings like a poison pendulum. The nature of tomorrow's past surrounds.

"What was it that I forgot?"

Finding the void...searching the nothing that is everything...one looks sharply into the clean, clear water of the toilet. With one's skull tilted at a right angle, one discovers that the essence of their being is swimming the seas of self-discovery.

And where is courage...while a multitude of crystallized past identities come to form from the toilet bowl water.

One steps down onto a dirty syringe propped up between the cracks in the sidewalk on the way to a hotel parking garage. The car, once stationed in a handicap spot, is being towed away...one watches as it disappears into the light of day.

Energies of negativity surround...one child after the other trip and fall while trying desperately to race the sun. The chimes from an ice cream truck melt in the distance, as bloodied flesh is licked by a cool breeze.

It's the atmospheric changing of the guard...I can feel it. From within, like an apple tree set ablaze, it’s the dance of the dead. Mesmerized...the beings follow. Waltzing through the graveyard.

Look! Inside each and every tree lives a dying monk.

While retrieving a cotton swab from my left ear...I noticed nothing while standing in the mirror. Nothing, that is, but sympathy. Sympathy for the empty eternal that has been pushed aside...pushed aside to reside on the left hemisphere.

"Stop the car! Over there! Over there by the rusted automobile. Just beside the blue tricycle, but before the empty vessel."

"The meshing of three forgotten souls."

A wedding is taking place. Two women and one man. The man wears a white wedding dress, veiled. Both of the women are clothed in black tuxedos. The priest is a hermaphrodite. The priest stands nude before the triangle mouthing silence. A dog wrestles itself in a bed of flowers. The dog will swallow an unhealthy amount of tulips. The dog will soon become ill. The triangle and the priest shall escape this spectacle.



WHILE OFF-CENTER, ONE WASN'T THE I THAT YOU KNEW...

Leaning against a red brick wall, a window awaits the nearest being held captive by persuasive ignorance.

Stopped on the way to the bathroom, but...Wait! I don't need to visit, so I walk out. With uncertainty behind, I will not look over my shoulder. Waiting outside, three cars pass... I continue to breathe of a way out.

To discontinue my prescription, I fall into Place... as a ghost, I stand. But still, I am pecked at. I would remove my ugliness from your sight... if only I owned a rock to crawl under.

A hole is pointed out; in the near by canine, it resides... the center of the universe is found there. Whimpering, the dog retreats into a row of shrubs. The remaining humanoids retreat back to the eatery.

Look! at what is offered... fried toothpaste. Malnourished/fresh breath...

Floating in the water glass assigned to the spot in which I am seated, a glorified whip awaits my next move. A struggle ensues...standing at a cash register, I am handed the relic.

Passing fellow corpses, I too feel as if I should have remained slumped over a bar stool.

The telephone can read, the clock states a timely hour as liquid emits an odor from the nearest philosophical orgy of the blind. Eye glasses applied, I now can see.

The automobile that this key in my pocket activates shall remain as useless as it ever was...for it will not be needed, nor, missed where I am going.

And the space between now and then is being occupied by theories far too basic to be understood by the primary dwellers of cities with psychosomatic symptoms and health care charge accounts.

The sun and moon radiate, but the fullness of an empty pitch black blankets the atmosphere. The silence now radiates. Ones thoughts are to be discontinued.

Entering the womb, a stranded passenger is seen flailing her arms around in a circular motion while standing on another's front porch.

An animal known as "Human Being" crawls on all fours in order to capture a butterfly while still in all it's glory. Enlightenment may be found this way?

The creaking of floorboards, the spilling of soiled truth...I am now one with past discrepancy ranging only a few. No gate, minus a door...the hinges are not broken, they were never needed.

Sitting in the middle, I bear witness to one such display of a murderous nature. A peaceful bird rests in the mouth of a size less dog...tail playfully wagging, the dog exudes a sense of belonging.

"What would you like with your coffee?"

The waitress...

"Would you like to be buried in a coffin?"

"I do not wish to die just yet, thank you."

The waitress leaves the check underneath the cup of coffee: "3 Days" it reads. After inhaling the blackened liquid, I stuff the check into my pocket and exit into the wall.

Pushed through the keyhole, I enter the home...to find two women and a half man who consists of his lower body only. "check" is faintly heard above the still, seemingly aired from the direction of the half man..."check" again, I notice his penis air.

With hesitation, I slowly hold the check toward the penis...the woman to the left quickly snatches the piece of paper from my hand and places it in her mouth. The woman to the right, in a matter of seconds, has completely undressed.

A tiny round strip slowly exits Miss Right's vagina and enters Mr Low's anus...a telepathic code is now one with my brain as it is spewed onto my face from Mr Low's penis.

I awake via rays of white light beating down on my face...overheated and blurry; carried by the wind, dropped down beside a bed that rests in a darkened blue room.

There lies a very pale woman naked...digital readings, in continuous motion, dance along her body.

"...in the sea of digital information... 2x dh 7 ...behind the bushes of dreams... 3)^ 9"6 5y ...one, two, three persons may find themselves... Onm X % 2x dh 8 ...having been visited... 7~ @ ...twice by unexpected company thrice..."

I continued to stare, hovering over the body, as the digital display repeated itself three times before I check her pulse. As soon as the groove that protrudes from my finger touched her flesh...the digital reading ceased.

Her body turned bright fluorescent and quickly began to hollow...the front of her body was adorned by a winding arrow that spiralled her body and led to her back...I promptly turned her over to find the words

Beyond Dirt Stands Cleanliness... Beyond Cleanliness Stands Truth... Beyond Truth Stands Existence...

written across her belly in print so small that it was hardly legible. But, by the time the body was turned over...it had already begun to decompose...the fluorescence had quickly waned. I feel as though I hadn't finished reading her…

As I backed away from the bed...blood had begun leaking from her vulva. The blood drips onto the bedroom floor collecting in a thick, deep, red puddle which disperses...taking shape...

"37 HOURS"



BEFORE THERE WAS...

Through a wilderness of dead plastic and a multitude of used programmers, lined-up like junkies awaiting a fix, I trudge.

A loud speaker appears above this wasteland...

"Those who have a ranking of either one, two, three or four...should exit this particular area immediately."

"A new identity...a fresh form of currency...race shifter...what?! sexuality? what!?"

Exudes from the mouth of one junky...the others shopped similar options.

However, one innocent stayed back away from the desperate mob of peers. After breaking away, I approached him...

"Those who have a ranking of either one, two, three or four...should exit this particular area immediately."

The recording, again, spouts.

Just before the herdsmen broke, I left the silicon graveyard...with the un-spoken, he who was in back, following intently.

Sitting, the electric glow dances around us as I say…

"You do have a thorough understanding of codes, I take it..."

With the reply being…

"But, of course...the followers, herdsmen, digi-druids...ranks from 1 to 10. What's in mind?"

"2x dh 7 3)^ 9"6 5y 0nm X % 2x dh 8 7~ @ "

"Cipher...the domain does not sound familiar, though."

"Behind the bushes of dreams..."

"The entrance may be found inside a graphic...what graphic, I'm not sure."

"Have you been visited?"

"Two women raped me...and..."

"...and...a man from the waist down...."

A hush filled the air with an extreme density...

"...and..."

"And the two women were silent..."

"They offered no code...I believe that it was a last warning..."

"Do you know their affiliation?"

"No. Nor did I know, directly, that I had ever broken any codes significant to them."

"Do you wish to engage...My requests must be fully realized to completion."

"Payment will be $400,000...with an extension option if seen fit. Also, after I have navigated you to where it is you wish...I will no longer be obligated to carry-out any more deeds...if I wish, would then be allowed to simply walk away from the terminal...final."

"I understand...when can you begin?"

“Tomorrow night."

"You can room here throughout."

"Of course."

The darkness soon became light...it lulled me to sleep. Radioactive flying objects and sirens surround. The ringing in my ears has returned...dizziness, inner balance of the absolute, void...never to return.

Blinding...through inner light I am dismissed for origami. The photographer bears witness to the afterbirth of two dreams colliding in a molecular power structure incomprehensible to those who can deliver respectable glances in absurd situations while stabilized in life-threatening disease. There will never be another to...

I am awakened by cries of injustice...bitterness is the current trait of dominance in my mouth...I inhale two capsules of comfort and one of daily preparation.

The stranger nearby, sits at the monitor incapable of nothing else...I visit relationships past to present...

Like a cartoon, my nine lives have been spent by the same smile that used to greet me at the door. "We're going out the way we came in..." you would say. To sit and ponder that, I would, on dull meaningless days showed the absurdity of our lives together.

Broken clocks filled the room, dusty and still the rooms were. The kitchen appeared inactive for years, and the living room was bare. The bedroom had two or three stains on the wall, one looked like blood, the other was clear and stiff. The bed showed springs and the bathroom was the only room with a sense of life. A sense of urgency. Toothbrushes were spread across the floor and the shower was always pulled shut.

Like a flower that's fragrance was too poisonous to breathe, your lips wrapped around me. Each minute felt like an eternity, an eternity empty. You would laugh with tears streaming down your cheek, the veins in your eyes would bulge red. And as I sat at the edge of the bed in a state of confusion, you were sleeping sound like a baby.

A mind as blank as a billboard, full of freezer burnt thoughts. The lost expressions escaped from it's lopsided walls and found solitude outside this disoriented existence. Except for those rare occasions when I would run circles around the red tricycle called Zulema, as she walked into the room wearing only cowboy boots and damp eyes.

"What are you suppose to do when no one understands, but everyone will listen?"

"Black and white image...a woman sleeps...while she sleeps, she is gang raped by 3 men... behind her is a large fern..."

"Pornography?"

"Beyond Dirt Stands Cleanliness...Beyond Cleanliness Stands Truth..."

A long pause is felt. My focus becomes his.

"When you are prepared to enter...I will be out back waiting. Find me before the touch of the midnight hour."

The day faded to black, we smeared it across our faces. As dead as the weeds that imprison the gravel bed at our feet, our future has far too many holes to count. Jumping trains, the blood follows us like wild dogs. Sitting in the middle of America, we were born to the moon.

Concrete hearts and pipe-dreams remain from the last of us. Built by pain and fueled by rain, we will never return to the land of morality. A sky that washes away our innocence and strips the last of our hope.

I...I am too old to forget, but yet too young to remember. The days spent starring out windows of dingy, flea bitten motel rooms. I could see the perimeter of time. The living dead would pass by as smoke filled cars fluttered down gravel and glass referred to as streets. With cigar in hand, I would watch the presidents drown in toilets stuffed with dreams. "Be sure to flush!" The muffled voice would always find my ears.

Every Monday at three o'clock in the morning the carpeted brain would trot down to the 24-hour grocery store to buy a carton of eggs. Return home to notice one egg missing and sit on top of the television tossing the remaining eggs at a stained, gold framed mirror mumbling obscenities and blowing bubbles from the enormous nose that made up nearly half of a face entirely too small for a 255 pound exterior. The carpeted brain would eventually collapse on the floor exhausted and disappear only to re-appear at three o'clock the next Monday morning on the same mission as before.

This is the only thing that has bled through the lopsided walls of my freezer burnt thoughts. This and the time that I was in the bathroom relieving myself...my father stood bare in front of an unusually large butcher knife that he had placed beside the bathtub. Dead ants laid lifeless in the sink and the frogs of reality spoke of an unknown truth, as my father hovered over me like a vulture patiently waiting for my death...to devour what was left of my dignity. To escape I called upon the clouds whom responded with a gravitational pull so great that he was forced through the air vent to never be found again. The only other time I'm reminded of my father is when I feel that the waters are blessed with an undertow.

The dread that we feel is that of a hundred men and women. Our fears attacking us in our sleep, the so few hours we're able to drift off into the blissful subconscious. Our mission is to embrace humanity once more before we die. A mission that seems, at times, impossible to the point of absurdity. We travel on and on, through the weathered hearts of America. The land of the beaten down and tired. Souls so withered that with each and every wind that blows...another one is lost. We feed off of your mistakes, rain is not only the water that quenches our thirst, but also cleanses our thoughts. And when you are not home...we sleep in your beds.

"I'm now prepared to enter what it is that awaits."



THE NARRATOR AWAITS...

The two men enter the Lab.

7~ @ Molecular transformation transpires. The two men become one with the pixels that dot the monitor. And then...the two men simply disappear altogether in a cloud of digital dust.

Leaving only two emptied carcass' slumped over a deadened electronic device.