blinko
nick yanked at the thick root in the ground, brushed aside dirt, it dug itself into his fingernails. a wind picked up and the sky looked like it wanted to vomit.
there was absolutely nothing out here. the closest sign of man was the railroad a few yards away from the forest, following it was how nick had gotten here. even if there ever were people on it they were locked up in boxes tugging at one another to move along as quickly as possible. so nick was free from any sort of societal controls.
most of the trees were without leaves, dark grey, pointing up at an empty whiteish gray sky. begging it not to leave, the later it got the blacker the trees turned. nick was trying to pull up a tree by the roots. and do what? and suck its blood. take a bath in the dying sap. he gave up because he wasnt strong enough, then alternately mumbled and screamed in a language he hadnt been taught, wordless sounds. to fill up the empty space. he sat down on a log with no ants in it.
for nick there was nothing to do that he wanted to do, and nowhere to go. his life had reached a standstill and felt just as dull one place as another so he sought change of scenery to fill it up. talk to friends that are trees. he chose to walk deeper into the forest, he didnt expect anything and he found nothing. more uneven sand and rocks and jagged grassy pieces of land running into each other at odd intervals. trees and their smaller children, and an antbed where all of the ants must have been abed. when one is completely alone and forced to internalize one's own self as the only readily discernable sentient lifeform, nick had noticed, one may harmlessly take into one's head the delusion that one is god. the resulting selfimportance dulls the lonliness. look at the eyeholes of them trees. where have the eyes gotten to?
why i've got them in my pocket, thought nick.
nick felt the two bulbous round shapes in his pocket, ball berrings, took them out and placed them in the knot sockets on the face of one gasping tree. it looked creepy as hell in the dusklight so he left them there and ran back the way he came.
i cannot tell stories of my own right now until they bring me joy by doing so. i have had an eventful life. i think i will try to write them on paper first with my evil zombie spider bitten hand. having part of my body rot off gave me an interesting insight into my own mortality. i am considering joining americorps next year. i am in lots of confusion about my future. research this and give me an opinion.
oh and if i am not getting sick i am going to start recording a new yacob album this week.
there was absolutely nothing out here. the closest sign of man was the railroad a few yards away from the forest, following it was how nick had gotten here. even if there ever were people on it they were locked up in boxes tugging at one another to move along as quickly as possible. so nick was free from any sort of societal controls.
most of the trees were without leaves, dark grey, pointing up at an empty whiteish gray sky. begging it not to leave, the later it got the blacker the trees turned. nick was trying to pull up a tree by the roots. and do what? and suck its blood. take a bath in the dying sap. he gave up because he wasnt strong enough, then alternately mumbled and screamed in a language he hadnt been taught, wordless sounds. to fill up the empty space. he sat down on a log with no ants in it.
for nick there was nothing to do that he wanted to do, and nowhere to go. his life had reached a standstill and felt just as dull one place as another so he sought change of scenery to fill it up. talk to friends that are trees. he chose to walk deeper into the forest, he didnt expect anything and he found nothing. more uneven sand and rocks and jagged grassy pieces of land running into each other at odd intervals. trees and their smaller children, and an antbed where all of the ants must have been abed. when one is completely alone and forced to internalize one's own self as the only readily discernable sentient lifeform, nick had noticed, one may harmlessly take into one's head the delusion that one is god. the resulting selfimportance dulls the lonliness. look at the eyeholes of them trees. where have the eyes gotten to?
why i've got them in my pocket, thought nick.
nick felt the two bulbous round shapes in his pocket, ball berrings, took them out and placed them in the knot sockets on the face of one gasping tree. it looked creepy as hell in the dusklight so he left them there and ran back the way he came.
i cannot tell stories of my own right now until they bring me joy by doing so. i have had an eventful life. i think i will try to write them on paper first with my evil zombie spider bitten hand. having part of my body rot off gave me an interesting insight into my own mortality. i am considering joining americorps next year. i am in lots of confusion about my future. research this and give me an opinion.
oh and if i am not getting sick i am going to start recording a new yacob album this week.