A Day In The Life Parts 1&2
A Day In The Life
I stand in my house. It is daytime, the exact time is not known. I stand in my living room, upstairs, looking out the bay window. Outside it is quiet. The streets are bare, the houses and cars, silent. It is gray and bare. Vegetation continues to thrive and live, it is damp from the constant drizzle. Outside all anymore is heard the mist rushing past your face and through the trees. It is as if nothing really happened, everything sits as it was, but it is now empty and still, and thats how it will be from now on. I stand in my living room looking out the bay window.
I lean my knees against the couch that leans against the window. A resting place for my friend, my guardian, my Remington 12-Gauge. He leans against my shoulder, as I stand in my living room, looking out the bay window. He rests against a blue flannel shirt, another friend of mine, who rests over his friend, a thin black worn metal band t-shirt. They have been almost inseperable, as I to them. And below lies jeans now turned faded blue, reaching down to my old, trusty CAT work boots. They are all a part of me, we are always together. So I stand in my living room, with my boots, jeans, flannel and t-shirt...oh and I forgot my recent friend Red Bandana, he rides the neck.
Surprisingly power still exists, sort of. I don't know when it'll go, but I'm not waiting for it. I celebrate with music, always a CD of sorts, it helps with the setting. I stand in my living room looking out the bay window, holy choir music softly droning on as I look out to damp space. The music stops, a soft lamp fades from my face, everything is left to the dull, singular cloudy light of day. The power has left now, I squeeze my friend against my shoulder.
I stride down my front lawn to the street. The gray cold is felt through my shirts, red bandana sort of helps. I stand at the end of my driveway, my friend in hand. As I predicted, the mist is all that is heard, and then a rumbling which gets closer. I stand at the end of my driveway looking down the bend in the street. A blue pickup truck comes around the bend, it is old, and rattling, but it works.
The truck stops, the cab just ahead of me, the bed right in front. A hand reaches toward me. I oblige and grab it, pulling myself up into the truck. Two guys who I haven't seen before sit on stacked crates near the cab, either one facing opposite each other, looking outwards to the North & South. I don't know them, but they are just like me. Shirts over shirts, jeans and boots. Each with their own special friend. I don't know these men, it's probably best if I don't. I know the driver, but for how long, I can't say.
The truck moves on through the bleak and emptiness. I stand at the end of the truck, facing the desolation moving away from me. I'm heading to work, or I guess I sort of am already there. I'll be back home before dark to settle in for the night. I think I will.
I stand at the end of the truck as it moves on, looking outward, my friend in both hands. I imagine all of the parallel, infinite universes existing at that very moment, in the same space, different dimensions. I'm running down the street, school's out, the neighbowr mowing his lawn, the hot girl walking her dog...all happening in every other possibility and reality but mine. I stand at the end of the truck, looking into gray.
A person finally emerges from their yard, then another from his, they meet out in the street, and begin to follow. They look up at me standing at the end of the truck, with my friend, the truck moves slowly, but the people even slower, they still follow though. I look down at them, they look at me. One of the two acquaintances on the truck looks at me, I don't see that he's looking, but I know, he clears his throat in expectance. I turn my head slightly to the right in response, but I keep my eyes on the two continuing to follow. I straighten my head back, I look up from the two, again into the void. Another figure is seen in the distance, too far to make out the features, but it dosen't really matter, most people are very much alike these days..I guess in that sense not much has changed.
The man behind me coughs, I know it's more than expectance now, I look back down at the two. I call on my friend, he looks straight at them, staring them down as if to tell them to stop and back away..my guardian. But they won't listen, nothing I do will make them stop, nothing but one thing. Nothing can help them, they don't need it, only the living need help.
I stand in my house. It is daytime, the exact time is not known. I stand in my living room, upstairs, looking out the bay window. Outside it is quiet. The streets are bare, the houses and cars, silent. It is gray and bare. Vegetation continues to thrive and live, it is damp from the constant drizzle. Outside all anymore is heard the mist rushing past your face and through the trees. It is as if nothing really happened, everything sits as it was, but it is now empty and still, and thats how it will be from now on. I stand in my living room looking out the bay window.
I lean my knees against the couch that leans against the window. A resting place for my friend, my guardian, my Remington 12-Gauge. He leans against my shoulder, as I stand in my living room, looking out the bay window. He rests against a blue flannel shirt, another friend of mine, who rests over his friend, a thin black worn metal band t-shirt. They have been almost inseperable, as I to them. And below lies jeans now turned faded blue, reaching down to my old, trusty CAT work boots. They are all a part of me, we are always together. So I stand in my living room, with my boots, jeans, flannel and t-shirt...oh and I forgot my recent friend Red Bandana, he rides the neck.
Surprisingly power still exists, sort of. I don't know when it'll go, but I'm not waiting for it. I celebrate with music, always a CD of sorts, it helps with the setting. I stand in my living room looking out the bay window, holy choir music softly droning on as I look out to damp space. The music stops, a soft lamp fades from my face, everything is left to the dull, singular cloudy light of day. The power has left now, I squeeze my friend against my shoulder.
I stride down my front lawn to the street. The gray cold is felt through my shirts, red bandana sort of helps. I stand at the end of my driveway, my friend in hand. As I predicted, the mist is all that is heard, and then a rumbling which gets closer. I stand at the end of my driveway looking down the bend in the street. A blue pickup truck comes around the bend, it is old, and rattling, but it works.
The truck stops, the cab just ahead of me, the bed right in front. A hand reaches toward me. I oblige and grab it, pulling myself up into the truck. Two guys who I haven't seen before sit on stacked crates near the cab, either one facing opposite each other, looking outwards to the North & South. I don't know them, but they are just like me. Shirts over shirts, jeans and boots. Each with their own special friend. I don't know these men, it's probably best if I don't. I know the driver, but for how long, I can't say.
The truck moves on through the bleak and emptiness. I stand at the end of the truck, facing the desolation moving away from me. I'm heading to work, or I guess I sort of am already there. I'll be back home before dark to settle in for the night. I think I will.
I stand at the end of the truck as it moves on, looking outward, my friend in both hands. I imagine all of the parallel, infinite universes existing at that very moment, in the same space, different dimensions. I'm running down the street, school's out, the neighbowr mowing his lawn, the hot girl walking her dog...all happening in every other possibility and reality but mine. I stand at the end of the truck, looking into gray.
A person finally emerges from their yard, then another from his, they meet out in the street, and begin to follow. They look up at me standing at the end of the truck, with my friend, the truck moves slowly, but the people even slower, they still follow though. I look down at them, they look at me. One of the two acquaintances on the truck looks at me, I don't see that he's looking, but I know, he clears his throat in expectance. I turn my head slightly to the right in response, but I keep my eyes on the two continuing to follow. I straighten my head back, I look up from the two, again into the void. Another figure is seen in the distance, too far to make out the features, but it dosen't really matter, most people are very much alike these days..I guess in that sense not much has changed.
The man behind me coughs, I know it's more than expectance now, I look back down at the two. I call on my friend, he looks straight at them, staring them down as if to tell them to stop and back away..my guardian. But they won't listen, nothing I do will make them stop, nothing but one thing. Nothing can help them, they don't need it, only the living need help.