Cacked Eye Reality.

Cacked Eye Reality

Strange. Cactus everywhere. Games. Bowling bowling bowling. Sitting above with drinks many drinks. Tasty bottles in handy storage holds. Changed to poured with ice in glass. Sitting safely. Then sitting atop a perilous hole. Hard to reach the drinks and pass. Which one would you like this one dark as rum or this one light as orange. I drink them all. Just a taste. Then switch snatchily back for the orange. So much floating ice. The hole the hole nearly falling down the hole. Splash spilt drinks. Back to the bowl. This way that way all over the shop. Bowling balls on the wrong the lane the wrong way. Roll roll roll. Thats why the give him the last lane. Change. Inside the game. Pick your warrior. I stick with the aboriginal warrior. Choose your weapon. I wanted a little one. I got big. Oh No. Looks like a brachiosaur. Oh yes. Its a cactus bazooka which shoots outs cacti bombs which make all the other palyers hallucinate. Bouncing orange spores. Kaboo, kaplow. Mescalinity everywhere.
Trippy city. Gear. Two fluroscent dinosaurs passed out on the floor by a shack. A little multicoloroud dinosaur like creature rampages on top of their backs before sucking with its moat upon them. Suck. Trippy lights. Drip drip drip. Nothing looks the same the wheel of the tap. Flash flash. Its stuck. No going back. Whoah. Out of the woods. Out of the game. A witchy lady in a hat with her dog laughs. Its the same as the Peyote just the same. As we sit together underneath the trees.
Little trickles of people come. Were survivors on the land. Food. We wait. Nicely together. Ferocoius drums. Not sound. Energy buzzing in the air. The food circle is here. Its not happy. Were not happy. In the break of the trees at the top of the valley bowl. Waiting to charge down. Forty thousand burning hot lumps of blazing coal. To be driven down the valley slopes across the fields like chariots. Driven by their human masters. Masters who are happy to laugh and celebrate like death is the greatest joke of all. Let the music play.
Many are disgusted by the effect the burning coal will have. Blazing furrows into the grass. Others are excited about the food yet to eat. Katie comes swinging along with a basket of food that she cooked and walked over to the people nestled in the trees.
Theres only one thing i can do disgusted at thae horrendous army of burning coal, forty thousand lumps. Each lump the size of a car. Swear of food. No food. I will not eat.
I head away from the trees.
Onto a bridge over a river.
A large bridge.
Big enough for ships to pass under.
High up.
To my right a stream.
Where people wash. The sun paints the skies a mist, sky piratey in its form awash of eastern promise. To my left far away across the water harbour side. Behind the sea. In front through a gap in the trees I can just about make out the people ready for their food. They sing.
So do I.
Well I shout in righteous fury.
Energy Uprising in my soul.
Earth my Body
Water my soul
Air my breath
Fire my spirit.
Heya heya heya heya heya ho.
I jump and climb on the bars upon the bridge. Tipe-rope walking across the upper railings. I sing louder and louder.
On top of the bridge in the middle is a line of iron. That spans the entire length of the brisge one end to the other. It is just wide enough for a person to stand on walk on. I stand on it. I jump. Exanding my fury at the coal into the air. Then I drop. Clasping my hands together above my head I hang from the iron line. The bridge is below me. I swing and discover a cross with beads tied around the Iron line is next to me. Swing back and forth still singing. As more and more people join in with the singing our voices become one. I swing backwards hard. The iron line moves it tushes backwards too. This is excting until I release there is no more bridge beneath my feet. Back back back i fly. Swinging. Whoah. Below now only open sea. If i fall. Splosh. Wait. A boat. A glimpse of white. A blue rope. This is a boat beneath me. If I let go now. I dont. But if I did. I would land from off the bridge not into the sea but onto a boat. I let go. Hairy very hairy. One of those hairy moments. I make it onto the boat. Is anyone in. Am I in. It seems im attached to the boat and the iron line. The iron line is heavy. Seems to be steering what was once an anchored boat away. To crash into the side. Or the fence that is closed to the open sea. Away. Well. Soon but not now I will knock on the cabin door. Explain that I have been saved from the sea by landing on this boat.
Still. Not now.
The sides get away. The wooden barrier to the sea. Its getting close. Closer still. As everything gets wetter and wetter and I am soaked from my shoes to my hair I worry that I’ve left my backpack behind. Then fathom. Right now in the world there is no reason I need my backpack or anything in it. I am wet on a strange boat in raging sea. Adventure on.