Cheshire Teeth Amoeboid Mind

fiction. pure fiction

SO the crazy slithered in under the door

Slobbering on my mantelpiece  

Running his bloated tongue over the mirror,

Just after analyzing his bulging eyes in the reflection,

Then turned to face me

 

He smiled and told me

“I believe in Jesus.”

Amoeboid and unnatural

His mind squirmed

Much like his entrance between the tile

And the door

 

You could see the motion behind the eyes

The pressure changed, you see,

Making the bulging a pulsing, if only for a moment,

But this all preceded the spittle spraying in all directions

Because crazy, though it slithers, prefers to maintain its composure

Just before an outburst

It may even shake your hand.

 

The introduction is always the same,

“No, I’m not the Southerland. He’s an actor,

And I’m a stoner. Big difference in the paycheck there..”

You can feel crazy on the other side of the palm, if you’re lucky,

Like an electric charge

It seems to jump up your arm

Behind your eyes

And into your head

 

Don’t be surprised if this trips up the thought process

The one behind your eyes, not his.

He’s used to the crazy while your brain operates on a different current

A different wavelength, and the crazy causes this to skip for a second

Like an old CD

Then we just stare

That’s the normal routine

 

He looks at me and I look back at him

One may think we were lovers but

This isn’t anything close to the contact most people want

Have you ever felt like the center of attention

But a pane of glass at the same time?

Completely focused on but entirely invisible

All in the same breath?

You discover this quickly with your new friend

And his dead eyes, almost insect, nearly synthetic,

Pale clear and ever present

They stare

 

The he moves

Something small

But this always predates the outburst

Looking as if he heard a voice

 

We all know where this is going

We can see the strain building from nowhere

But its present in his taught tendons, rope tight on his neck,

The spasming muscles

And the long drawn out scream that slips between his teeth

 

A matter of minutes can be a lifetime

When confronted with the snapping mind

And the reactions you have are what keep you alive

The environment is your only weapon

So just relax

If you're fucked, you're fucked

But if your not…

 

Crazy will come round again.

 

 03/20/2013

Reviews

[.]

This is my favourite stanza in this stunningly poetic foray into the human psyche:

"He looks at me and I look back at him
One may think we were lovers but
This isn’t anything close to the contact most people want
Have you ever felt like the center of attention
But a pane of glass at the same time?
Completely focused on but entirely invisible
All in the same breath?
You discover this quickly with your new friend
And his dead eyes, almost insect, nearly synthetic,
Pale clear and ever present
They stare"

I know precisely what this means and have experienced this too. Brilliantly written. A human being's tryst with his consciousness as well as his subconscious mind gives us a million insights into what is sanity and what is not and how there's only a very, very thin line between the two.

[J Todd Underhill]

Great write my friend, it has been a while, hope all is well with you, judging by this piece you have had an active night!