May 7 2024
The parker’s lived opposite a green cube. No one in the world knew what it was.
I believe in things that aren’t popular. For this reason I chose to remove my clothes. I tried to hump a sign post. I was arrested and sent to the gallows.
I sit on my bench, writing this note. In two days I will be hung. I deserve what’s coming to me. I never treated my fellow man with dignity. Now I’m facing the consequences. I have no complaints. No regrets.
I yawned for years. My whole life was a never ending ritual of stomach contractions as I sucked oxygen into my Canadian frame.
The lies told by the men makes me sad. I just sit there in awe and disbelief. I often wonder who really owns the world. Is it something so beyond comprehension? Some sort of energy that exists in and around me? A force that I can’t immediately notice? Am I really in control? Or is someone playing me like a game?
“Have you had your peas?” Asked mother.
Father sank to the floor and curled up into a ball. He fantasized about getting into bed with a beautiful girl and fucking her late into the night.
“Why don’t you eat your vegetable?” Continued mother. “Your bones cannot be replaced. Eat what your son and I have cooked.”
Father kicked and screamed on the floor. A wave of sweat began to stink up the dining room. “I can replace my bones by the power of God,” Whispered the father. “He has given us tools for change. A powerful omen was spotted in the woods when I was 14. I have never spoken about this publicly.”
Mother began to gaze. She began to feel sorry for herself. Why hadn’t she married the handsome boy from her youth? He was so creative and gentle. He only fucked her on weekends.
“Take me to the gates and surrender before St. José!” Screamed the Father.
The child was used to this. He had grown up between two out of control Nazi’s. He was sure of his future. It wasn’t good. It was a life of pain and hard work in the factories. He had been raised to produce steel. He was the owner of bruised and battered hands. He was ready for death, even at the tender age of 11.
“Have I satisfied our Lord?” Asked the Child.
“God works for us and serves his children. He always has our best interest,” replied the Mother with a look of psychedelic devotion.
Father began to spasm and to cough up decades of childhood trauma. He shook and made the room tremble in despair. Mother shook her head disapprovingly.
A blank slate. I must begin now. It is my duty. It is what I came here to do. To be creative. To be consistent. To be true. To be real. To release. To reveal truth. I’m tired, but I have a duty. I don’t always like it here, but I must create.
The city was busy at 5 pm. The cars raced home like bugs. The sun cast such a powerful orange glow against the granite walls. The shadowy alleyways began to fill with spiritual seekers. They had sexual cravings oozing from their solar plexus.
This lifetime was a meditation in free will. Two paths lay ahead. The choice was entirely their own.
Above the clouds and beneath the planes. A section of sky known as Hillbilly Highway.
The Beings from within the earth parked themselves here and began to observe. They took notice of the way the roads wiggled out from the centre of London.
I had heard God last night. I can’t remember what he said. I was in a panic. It’s a miracle I didn’t piss against a wall. It wouldn’t be the first time.