Up
I had made journeys before, like everyone else. And I had savoured every view down a step or rung, and had wished that the step wouldn’t trip or that the rung wouldn’t disappear, leaving me bereft and stupid, and wished that there were no end to the journey, and that I could sit down and waste a breather of a moment, at the same time.
But to me, this journey was a different one; it was the last that I would make and the toughest; not because the journey would tire me out and leave me wolfishly huffed and puffed, but because I had to make a choice; selfishly equipped with but two of them; I could either make this journey and never come back, or not make it at all. With a tongue cut off by my limited conviction, I let the adventurer in me take over; like an overdose of Jekyll potion. And this I would regret.
The journey was a fairly easy one. All that I had to do was climb and clamber; over dreamy objects that were too obscure and fogged out for me to sense or figure. I seldom made conversation on the way; whatever I was climbing over, seemed to exude an uncanny sepulchral silence, like frightened squid ink; it seeped into the night around me and clouded my eyes in the days. And it was through these days that I began talking to myself. I could hear my cut tongue grow back, like a noisy fetus, sprouting words and vocabularies like hands and toes and hair.
So where are you going again? Do you know? Of course I know! So why don’t you tell me? Why should I; you’re the one that’s making the journey! But of course, I do know where I am going! Then why do you ask me where you are going? I just wanted to find out if you knew! Liar!
And some of these days or nights, I did not know, I felt that I wasn’t talking to myself; it was almost like the mound that I was climbing grew into new life, like the adamant baby of an amputated tongue, like the simple vision of infinity; two dimensional and so near. And before I knew, the journey was talking to me.
Oh hello Mr.Up! Hello, Earthling! What is up? Me? Good one, Mr.Up!
In a slather of senseless barter of humor, I made my way upwards; to where, in truth or lie, I did not know. But up, I kept walking, up, the vines, and through the overgrown trees; but never did it strike me why there were trees living up here; I knew that I had climbed beyond the heights of life. You could ask me how I was alive. Don’t.
Success was not credible. I could not believe that I had made it, as I had not known what it would mean to make it anyway.
I screamed when on top of the world but I looked down at my bloodied palms. There was no pain for it was not mine. I bothered to stare at the pile of humans lying below me. I had climbed up humanity. Stepping aside to miss a bloodied heart that was fishily out of water, I unwrapped a kite I had brought along, untangled its colourless string and let it fly away. It flew upwards. My tongue sprouted a new word that was endless.
But to me, this journey was a different one; it was the last that I would make and the toughest; not because the journey would tire me out and leave me wolfishly huffed and puffed, but because I had to make a choice; selfishly equipped with but two of them; I could either make this journey and never come back, or not make it at all. With a tongue cut off by my limited conviction, I let the adventurer in me take over; like an overdose of Jekyll potion. And this I would regret.
The journey was a fairly easy one. All that I had to do was climb and clamber; over dreamy objects that were too obscure and fogged out for me to sense or figure. I seldom made conversation on the way; whatever I was climbing over, seemed to exude an uncanny sepulchral silence, like frightened squid ink; it seeped into the night around me and clouded my eyes in the days. And it was through these days that I began talking to myself. I could hear my cut tongue grow back, like a noisy fetus, sprouting words and vocabularies like hands and toes and hair.
So where are you going again? Do you know? Of course I know! So why don’t you tell me? Why should I; you’re the one that’s making the journey! But of course, I do know where I am going! Then why do you ask me where you are going? I just wanted to find out if you knew! Liar!
And some of these days or nights, I did not know, I felt that I wasn’t talking to myself; it was almost like the mound that I was climbing grew into new life, like the adamant baby of an amputated tongue, like the simple vision of infinity; two dimensional and so near. And before I knew, the journey was talking to me.
Oh hello Mr.Up! Hello, Earthling! What is up? Me? Good one, Mr.Up!
In a slather of senseless barter of humor, I made my way upwards; to where, in truth or lie, I did not know. But up, I kept walking, up, the vines, and through the overgrown trees; but never did it strike me why there were trees living up here; I knew that I had climbed beyond the heights of life. You could ask me how I was alive. Don’t.
Success was not credible. I could not believe that I had made it, as I had not known what it would mean to make it anyway.
I screamed when on top of the world but I looked down at my bloodied palms. There was no pain for it was not mine. I bothered to stare at the pile of humans lying below me. I had climbed up humanity. Stepping aside to miss a bloodied heart that was fishily out of water, I unwrapped a kite I had brought along, untangled its colourless string and let it fly away. It flew upwards. My tongue sprouted a new word that was endless.
Comments
this post is a tragic-humor kinds! loved it!
:|
:)