A questioning puzzlement as to the future has appeared on the horizon. The sea is calm at the moment and I have to remind myself that this is not the only state that the sea loves to express. Surely it is ecstatic when the Atlantic winds can hurl it at the coastline, moving beaches, tossing a variety of life forms to their deaths, taking away the earth from under our feet; just as the present hurls the hubris of the past into oblivion and challenges us to face the future.
More of the same? Is that what voting conservative mean? Is that a smirk of gloating triumphalism on their faces? As they slip into their self-belief of their being the natural form of government. How much destruction can they achieve in the quickest possible time?
I am accelerating, casting time aside, the speed of light beckoning and I don’t care about the haggard face and hooded eyes, the grey flesh tightened over demanding bones. Such attention is called for as the imminent pulls at the thin layers of paper-skin.
I am acceleration, I am time, I am the speed of light: I flay death alive and I will stare unblinkingly into the future.
Yes I know that we are a pair of clowns on a broken wheeled tandem looking in despair at the holes in our shoes, the toes poking through the socks. Of course we notice the absence of progress, we glance askance at uncle death with his grinning mask and wonder at his lack of teeth. Hasn’t he heard of the NHS dental service. I know it’s not free, but the prices aren’t too bad. There’s always a bit of haggling to be done with the struck-off dentist. Deregulation is the name of the game. Tomorrow I’m a surgeon, the next day I will be trading in futures.
