Not being seen, I am strong upon Earth before my arrival. A swimming pull as I form. Space is filled with concealed ones since space can always be divided. I accepted this mission. It took me thirty years to remember that in everything is the story of something else. So I thirst.
We are taught by Dwellers through aeons. Million of chapters long in your library of DNA. You are the temple the great builders created. Biggie, the notorious oracle said “It was all a dream”.
As one familiar with sources, maybe it’s not OUR dream, but a dream nonetheless.
I am wearing my backpack on the bus. Things are going good, the sun is setting and I’m digging the meditative state everyone seems to be in. I realize I’m not sure where I’m going. I’m just here.
Unexpectedly, my fucking backpack is moving. Sorry to swear. But for realzies. The bottom of the bag is twisting with a decent amount of weight to it. It’s pressed into the lower part of my spine, churning in a flexible figure eight. I’m concerned. I subtly grab the bottom of my bag like a yuppie feeling for his wallet when he gets out of the car. It’s alive, it’s big and now every single person is staring at me and my bag moving. I can feel their thoughts… “does he have a puppy in his bag?” Do I?
My bag is getting more restless. I feel pressure scaling my spine. Like there’s hands inside of my bag trying to get out. Slowly, the zipper starts to unzip right below my left ear. The zipper keeps going and out comes a snakes head. I know this because I can also see myself through others people’s eyes riding the bus.
The snake makes its way to my ear, breathing soft but heavy. She whispers “Don’t worry, I’m gonna choke them out for you” and she zooms back into the bag and zips it up.
I have seen her eyes through a veil of spider webs that are checker boarded piercing any source of light I have. The space she resides in is pumping music, vibrating, hard, like futuristic Dubstep mixed with Samba. “What do you know!?” she keeps asking. “What do you know!!!???”
She doesn’t feel good. She is squinting at me like a fed up Mother. As her eyes focus on me more, all the shapes around her grow eyes in the center of them. They get as close to me as they can. Thousands of eyes, in my crotch, my neck, my lower back. Their presence is literally felt even though they do not touch me. But I swear I can feel the wind on my skin anytime one of them blinks.
"What do you know!?"
"Why do you do what you do?" I replied.
"Because we can’t feel."
She finds that funny.
She laughs, laughs, laughs. Eventually her laugh turns into a cackle, a cacophony of me being the entertainment. I turn away from her, but she was instantly waiting behind me. I turn away again, and she beats me to it. She is there, here.
￼Stories passed onto us in ruins, written in stone, recount the use of breath to bring us back. Winged, dark, sounding vibrations as she floats over her loved one blowing into his nose. We are a society, a people, a person, torn to shreds. Why not, if we are one, that we believe we are Osiris. Needing help. Needing breath to piece us back together. Piece…Peace… We need PIECE.
I remind myself to breathe. The whole scene is pushed back, drawn away like a curtain revealing a luminescent temple. I’m not sure this ever ends. Journeying, acquiring vessel after vessel. Meeting fauns and sphinxes requiring your full attention. Things move quick.