Never really witnessed such a gloomy March, or was it that my head were absent in some other realm?
The sun hid out and so most of the events that were waiting for me to sigh looking up in a gesture from me to them to halt over my head.
In an a-communal manner, she plants in my head a meeting point: the silver lagoon. Such a catchy name, hope her taste is well. “She always takes me to new places” a phrase iconic and once asserted; followed up with ” no, not only physically but even mentally and spiritually some sort of devil’s craving and lumination of angels combined”. It was the message I’ve been awaiting ever since the Sun has abandoned my sight.
Freaky how the skies hides our future, just to get our heads out of our asses to see it crystal clear (or cloud clear!).
The silver lagoon, huh, bet that many drowned there! Is being silently and willingly dragged to a place haunted with death holy or just silly romantic? Why not both? Probably none of that all- just some sort of a scam for me to figure out
As I tilt my head up to sway off the splash echoing from entering the lagoon’s premise, an epiphany is drawn before my eyes. If is silver because the moon lies so close, so drawn to Earth it can bear little cosmic rocks and foster them day and night. I was Twain’s Eve for a second except I knew that my neighboring decomposing bodies are not hoarding the moon at rotation. The axis, the light, the reflections, the mirroring of Sun’s hideout and uncertainty of future. When will she comes over and undo all of this? Why March after all, isn’t February the month of the dead? I was always bugged by the fumes people exhale to let out their frustration, is it worthy to consume the effort taken to draw a source of light out of an empty pocket to do a fag and the world won’t be at rest for these moments after all. She finally leans over, hands me a stone, she drops it, and I take a dive.
