Sunday, December 11, 2011

Nomadic thots...

"Swim Good"...Frank Ocean

Somewhere out in the West Midlands, far from the organized chaos of the concrete jungle, Ramone sat puffing on his cigarette, he flicked the ash off with a practiced flick, almost negligent of his surroundings. Out here in the country side, there was a tranquility that could not be measured, a certain peace that couldnt be described adequately with words, it was almost as if he was one with the elements, a perfect blend of man with nature, his soul fused into the timeless wander of existence. He could hear the birds sing to each other merrily, the joy in their voice borne out of an emotion alien to humans, it couldnt exactly be defined as happiness, it transcended the human definition of happiness, it was almost a'kin to a feeling of freedom that could only be imagined by walking off death row at the last second. He couldnt remember exactly how he had come to this state, but then he was a creature of habit.

He had lapsed into his temporary fugue state like he did every afternoon while he was on vacation and somehow he had drifted to unknown territory. In his mind, he was out in the desert, surrounded by emptiness and landscapes that had been rendered almost invisible by time, the wind whispered in his ears, slow soft whispers that felt almost rhythmic but at the same time eerie, he could taste the dry sharpness of the sand on his lips, brittle and almost feathery to the skin of his inner mind. There was no oasis in this desert, only an infinitesimal space that paled in comparison to the single speck of humanity that was represented by him. He was alone, a victim of his own prison, warden and convict at the same time yet powerless to loosen the bonds of ephemeral captivity. The sand swirled about his feet, almost in slow motion, he observed it like a man caught in a trance, gradually a hole began to form where his feet was planted, at first a speck, like little seams unravelling at the edges, he could feel himself sinking slowly, and there was nothing he could do about it.

There was no battle to fight, no wars to rally against, just the silent swoosh as the sand around his feet slowly faded out of existence into another world that he couldn't visualize, a gradual drift into oblivion.
He knew he had to do something soon, or he'd be swallowed up, he had never walked down these paths before, so he was unsure as to the next move to make, his eyes never wavered from the image of his reflection trapped in the sand. Have you ever experienced an out of body experience? Floating out of your soul to gaze down on your spirit, that was the scenario here, he stared deeper at the imagery in his mind, almost transfixed, as if by magic time had gradually ground to a halt in the inner corridors of his mentality. He was torn between indecision and the gravity of his dilemma, a debacle that he couldn't seem to resolve. Time slipped by in steady steps for the man in the desert, yet it never moved for the man on the curb, contrasting emotions ran through the different worlds...

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