The life and times of Indigo Stitch

Each morning comes a new day, same as the last, where we board the train to nowhere to mold our errant past.


The life and times of Indigo Stitch

I don’t know what to think.
The water slowly trickles, each drop in time
Synchronization without well laid plans
As the eerie spell presses
The only relief from pressure engages the silence outside
Pounding in my brain louder and louder
I lay there and stare at something
Try to focus on anything
Yet the incessant drumming wins the higher ground
The days
The past
The future
All for not
They blow away with the dust in the sunlight
Like millions of particle stars
Lightyears away, but trapped in my space
There must be millions more outside the ray of light
Blow into them and destroy the worlds as they mushroom cloud into normalcy
It doesn’t matter
Nothing really does in the long run
The success
The dreams
It’s all for not
All that exist is the hammering
Everything else belongs to the past
The music of the damned playing again and again
For all who hear it’s esoteric monotony
Harmonious dissidence
From the meaningless absent crowd
Like laughter and pointing fingers when you can’t walk away
The host
The game
The party
It’s all for not
They’re not here for you
Hiding behind abstract paintings on transparent partitions
Bricked in like Fortunato
Waiting for the last leak of light
A quiescent infinite night
No red lettered glow
No reason for flight
No hope
No cares
No life
It’s all for not
The significant moments have left
Squints packaged and numbered
Unconscious mind has no mercy
It knows where to hit
Each striking blow direct
Each disfiguring note, a processing gloat
Hands over ears
Biting your tongue you can taste the blood
Hold your breath
To save for when worlds collide
Sleep my dearest friend
Your always there for me
Only one
Only trust
The mutiny was too much
Sleep and dream of tomorrow
You’re always welcome there
Relinquish unpleasant vectors
That hold you in their tiny clutch
The day slips away
You can see your dream world close ahead
New faces
New places
They march your way
To the beat
Stomping on cerebral streets
In unison they come
Lined up one by one
Singing of mortal fun
Beating on their drums
The stampede
The rush
The glory
It’s all for not
Streets of plasma flow to the edge of the falls
Running out their energy
Trickling close by

By drop

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