June 2013

6/3/13: Rain was indecisive last week. She or he or it couldn't make up their mind to stay and spray on everyone or leave. Then she or he or it regrets leaving and comes back for more. Meanwhile the sun is trying to purge all the clouds for the puff-less plays coming in June and July. It or she or he is not sure about August. They prefer no questions asked at this time, only for past events only.
6/4/13: Engine roars at seven in morning. The summer has been deployed.
6/16/13: Sitting in his car with cool air blasting and bouncing in the car, he follows the ritual to look at a semi-controlled wilderness creek. There's no intention behind looking at the view, and perhaps that may be the point, without a tip. He looks at his watch. Five minutes have passed. He wished it was a partial half-hour. He goes to sleep and listens for cars crawling on top of the gravel. Five minutes have passed. He wakes up and thought he heard something, but it was nothing. It isn't until he turns the car ignition and drives away from the wilderness creek that he spots another on the road heading towards the creek. Even with his windows rolled up, he can hear the dub-step tunes and high pitch laughter. The other car pulls up to the creek. He wants to turn around, but he missed his chance and drives to any place he can consider.
6/17/13: A hermit decides to move back to the city, right after the rocks are removed on the forgotten road.
6/19/13: He hears a loud thud with a crack. A chunk of cement has fallen from the abandoned complex. After circling around the ruin, finding no paint marks, he deems the place as a holy site. He speaks to the building what he must seek and finds a chair on the side, but he doesn't know what it means....
6/21/13: Why should a knocked-down chair be any of his concerns? He knows the answer. His cell-phone vibrates in his pocket. The call for work. He thought of chucking it out of the building. He reconsiders. The third exploration through the levels continues. He finds old steel bars, showing rust on the tips. It's deemed as a worthy weapon after one wide swing. Upon the top floor, he looks out to the city. The modern structures stand in the middle while older generations push out to the edges of clustered civilization. To the view opposite to the city, he finds a few other ruins holding voice other than birds. Beyond the ruins, a flat, cracked cement land is all that remains. He decides to stay as the sky darkens.
6/23/13: The pain's sting in the head soothes him. His mind can't construct simple paragraphs. Degeneration is in progress.
6/26/13: I hear my brother speak off his practical mouth, urging me to snip off my lens of illusion illustration. I listen and comply to his mouth of facts. How the world is viewed beyond mine or his judgment. Do not deny the laws that operate time and space. Yet my lens of illusion may leap closer laws of facts beyond his mind.