This is more of a 30 Minute Manuscript, masquerading as a Sunday Snippet. It’s all my brain could come up with but at least it’s brand new and not an ancient offering from yesteryear.
No music! The habit of a years, broken by the gaudy architecture of a new lifestyle. What used to be second-nature, now an abscess – empty void where melody used to be.
Something about the silence lends itself to chaos of thought: as though the absence of harmony encourages an unconscious attempt to fill it. Or overfill it. One thought chases another through disorganised orchards of half-formed cognition, weaving drunkenly beneath the fluttering wings of old song lyrics and hazily recalled poetry.
Quotes from characters encountered in childhood wrestle with dream-monsters and living nightmares. I will not eat them Sam-I-am. Those giant bees that smother my body with their twitching wings and furry bodies. Black and yellow, black and yellow. Trying to put the mini in reverse when no-one told me that you have to lift the gearstick.
Snippets of sense, waving from the darkness, fleeing the light. Every determined attempt to capture them, resulting in frustration, damnation. Setting traps in my own mind, with my tapping, typing fingers – pretending to ignore what I secretly wish to examine. Gazing from the corner of my eye; peripheral perception.
Not that true silence even exists in a world of whirring, humming, window-waggling, feet-swishing, heater-clunking, modernity. Those sounds are just the jumbled backdrop to my miscellaneous mosaic of musings. The soundtrack of mental bricks plonking, one atop the another, reaching for a sky that doesn’t exist.
One tap away from toppling