Kaleidoscope by Peter Black

Author:Peter Black
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

There I was, a minuscule and worthless spec of dust, a small piece of rust, worn off from a branch, that had been sitting in the woods for eighty years, blown by the wind and dropped in the dirt, pushed down bellow where the was no sun; a fleck of a fracture of a plastic CD, a little graphic piece of the metallic label that had been chipped. Sitting in the theater I pulled up my arms and connected all my fingers and squeezed them so hard, they turned blue and then white and fell off like popcorn kernels onto the floor, mixed with the syrup and the ketchup and formed, monoliths of my worthlessness.

Seriously, man, can you tell me what the fuck, a person has to do to feel wanted and loved? Wasn't I a human as good as most. My breath didn't stink and my brain liked to boast, come up with ideas and turn them into thoughts; sure, maybe I wasn't on the cover of magazines—I wasn't disfigured and turkeyed up with scars, geared down with scissors with my nose on my ears and my ears in my eyes; my mouth on my pelvis and my eyes little black open dots.

Sitting there next to this girl that I liked, this girl that I liked in the pitch blue movie light, that entered my lungs with a breath and then blew, through my connectors and made me melt, into a puddle down into my shoes, there I was swimming in on the insert of these scuffed up boots—sitting their feeling like the world had gone, swallowed like a cough drop and sucked on until it was smooth, until I was frosty and minty and menthol cool, I knew, it was time to blow, flip on my switches and tare off the whole roof, take out my wings and my talons and claws, sharpen my beak and do some damage for once, let go of the feelings and the fears and the dreams, the human maladies that make everyone weak, and go up into the air and throw, myself out chaos in frenzy and gore.

I wanted to go, shit man, I wanted to go, get up right then and giving no word, hover right out the theater and zoom, through the stores and the glass and plastic bags, to hell with the babies and the shoppers and the hags in my way. Taste the floor people, when they were thrown in my wake as I got home in a minute, two minutes at least, traveling with super sonic speed to my bed and the safety of my sheets. I wanted my prison and a folded blanket over my head and the blackness that went on, for a mile, a million, a trillion leagues, all the way to the white walls of nothing, that were engraved with the warning, “If you are reading this, you know life in general is meaningless.”

For a good time, watching the duo make jokes

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