trying to adapt… but not adapt

trying to adapt... but not adapt

Rainbows kept following me.

It was a funny few days and nights fighting a feeling of light at the end of the tunnel, smoking weed through a funnel. I felt alive.

I looked at the dead me, the ‘me’ who never drew breath, the ‘me’ who lived in that empty whare caring for myselfishmess whilst not caring about anything at all; deaf heart not ever hearing me call. Fall over and over and over again tripping up on my lip as it dragged on the floor. My mother in the real world always said to me, “you had better pick that lip up or you’ll trip over on it”, and so I did. Juju lips of doom feeling dreary, wary of the night-time features hiding in the cupboards with the cobwebbed flies (the spiders had already sucked out all their yellowed juice). But at least they are my lips.

I speak a dime a dozen, frozen in the icicled graveyard. Too much hard yakka, Yackety yack, don’t talk.

Back to the rainbows…

I had been crying a lot that week. I thought I had buried the me that was dead. “Didn’t you die?”, I said. I was sure I watched you cover yourselfishmess with sand at the bottom of the sea…see me never while I rot. But yah, my heart forgot.

There was a whole other me that never lived, and my whole life long he stood next to me, mirroring my gestures. I read this story about the Yellow Emperor who went to war with the mirror people. He trapped them and enslaved them there, and salvaged the world we know. But yah, the Yellow Emperor warned that one day the mirror people would return to haunt us, they’d replicate our lives in ways that would trick us into their imaginary realm…so that we would be their puppets. That was the mirror me, the one I forgot.

He’s just a kid, just a baby, just a little juju lipped little orphan, widowed by time sitting patiently by the window…like those ads on TV of African kids sponsored by Christians. I forgot he was there all along, waiting for me, and all the while mirroring my every move.

Then all of a sudden he was standing next to me, vague and invisible but there all the same. “Hey you hori, my life isn’t a game of catch and kiss the boys, toys on speed whizzing by like flash photgraphy”. “You forgot about me”, he said. And he was right.

There were rainbows following me, and they followed me for two days as I drove home for the first time time time time in my life. No more strife. No more forgetting. No more dying.

…just rainbows following me.