Peering mirages through a Dali Impossible Desert I see masses of purposeless people...leading is a hero complex, a Man Without Purpose..."Now we have purpose!" they chant in follow accord...the Man Without Purpose - defiant to his ending - heads them to cliffs where buffalo were once driven...I ask a passing woman why she chants as such. "I'm not chanting, you idiot's idiot! I hate chanters a-chanting!"...none noticed me but all felt fear, eyes woefully shut to draw worth from the Man Without Purpose...one follow-man reads my thoughts. "Do not tell us what you see," he insists with stubborn pitchfork. "An open eye destroys faithless hope."
A smokey line in the not so distance took me to a city on mountain high. A house of refined fineness burned as a man with robotic smile stood proudly by out front...when I remarked on his flaming dilemma he shook my hand with both hands imploring, "I thank you for your concern. You're a good man."...then he gave a wink to deport myself. "I hope you'll say as much of me someday."...that seemed a curious profit as I reached the edge of the orderly block a wind blowing in a far away voice cried: "We're the city on the hill! The best there's never been!"
In the city square, every building has a steeple, stores and temples alike, the banks tallest of all...a man in a fiery fast car to be envied screeched up beside me...his Contorted Face turns to me to explain, "Suburban urban pain is the worst!"...then he twisted-turned forward-backward to the rear view mirror. "The dream trapped forever within."...as he reversed back to where he'd run from in Sisyphean defeat
Loosened Children mobbed me as coal mine canaries.
"We're in trouble!" "We're in trouble!" "We're in trouble!" "We're in trouble!" "We're in trouble!"
I suffered to ask why.
"It's our parents!" "It's our parents!" "It's our parents!" "It's our parents!" "It's our parents!"
"Do you want to take me to them?"
They silenced in deafening disappointment. "Oh, no," they rejected in unison. "It's so hard raising parents nowadays," their furrowed brows sighed. "They just won't listen."
A Singled Mother accompanied by hungry mouths to plead of her own making asked me, "Food, please, food."...I informed her I had no food..."Then where can we get what truly we are owed as fellows beings?"..."From those who have food?"..."No, that would be wrong. They told us so."..."They told you wrong."..."I'm not one to think unpleasant thoughts of others."..."But you just said it's a human right!"..."I'm only moral when disconnected."...thus she pleasantly starved in the land of plenty Storming towards me with panther lust eyeing fresh meat was a Man Undisputed..."I'm angry! Angry, I tell you! This insanity must stop or it will be the end of all of us!"..."I would not dispute that."..."Of course not! I'm a man of the season of reason. Once I have the Final Answer we'll be saved! So betray me please with an answer."..."Love?"..."Love! Never love. I do know what the answer is not!"..."If you didn't know what you not know then you'd know what you do know."...he quizzed his head for a lost moment. "I know I want to be angry."
My eyes turned to the night sky where I swam among star dreams dancing in the infinity of a future already passed, singing songs of boundless joy with knowledge of light both known and unknown causing me to lift my arms in released delight, at last.
Then a Mob Of Politic Saviors spots me as they'd been Jacobin informed by the Man Undisputed of my certain lunacy. "You fool! We found the answer: Magic Rocks. Rocks is all you need! We had them implanted in our Elongated head. Come with us to Impossible Desert. In the sand an unmade man will save us/you/all!"...as I stared at the loveless eyes boring me I knew I had finally come full encirclement.
Some of the crowd I used to run with call me "Howard Hughes" now. But they are gone for a reason, living only in the corner of my eye. Can a bum have real friends anyway?
I scrape by day after day, staying mentally intoxicated; living inside my head where I can make true things untrue - and untrue things true.
I've got nowhere to go, floating in the vacuum of space, grasping on emptiness. Any scrap of life I do find is immediately used as fuel for my lying mind. With a billion dollars (1.2) at my disposal I technically can do anything I want. So why do I feel so trapped?
I'm just like the wino who funnels every cent he finds to stay in his bottle. Put a wino in a penthouse and that's me.
I hide in esoteric mania on Mercury and Mars, where any truth I find remains unknown to this world. Do you know how disorienting it is to see the stars from a different planet? With all reference points lost, one is wholly at the mercy of one's thoughts.
An even bigger wino than me
Dying alone isn't much of a plan. I searched every goddam crook and crevice but cliche as it is, only love is real. Maybe it's only me but I can't find a way around it. There's no end game to anything else, only a series of dead ends.
I read where it would cost 250 million to air condition Texas prisons. Last summer here in Dallas was excruciating so that headline stuck out to me. I could write a check to cover that cost.
But it's not money that's holding them back as much as being possessed with crucifying Jesus. That's where the real battle would be, on the spiritual plane.
How's a wino going to win that fight? Especially when the truth does not suffice. I would need help.
What's to be done? (Probably what every wino says)
