Yogurt

I haven't been outside in three days, except to get groceries. I see the sun coming out out now, cresting over the top of the 15^th century building that has been my refuge, its rays piercing downward just enough to tempt my guilt into reminding me that there are things to do beyond these four walls – walks to be taken, inspiration to be gathered, depressions to fight, a life to be lived - not suffered through.

Maybe just one more cracker. Maybe a quick nap, sleeping off the the more insufferable parts of me. Maybe just a blind sit, focused on something infinitesimal and and miniscule that I can clean, or fix. Halfway through another bite, already thinking about the next one, the penultimate addict, even while the drugs go needing to know where the rest is coming from. . .

Worthless. I throw that one to the universe as ask it if the pastas is done or not. Can't see it sticking to the wall just yet but either way it leaves me with the vague notion that I have a choice in this whole cooking process. But trying to turn down the heat is like trying to run away in a dream, where free will is the joke of the conscious mind as it gives way to the finer points of your sub-conscious insanity. Where am I exactly? How did I get here and where am I going? Are these questions that even have answers? Or are they just meant to be allowed to fester into colonies of layered sporadic mold? Growing deep within me is the notion of the useless of this all. Like a natural yogurt having been removed from the refrigerator, no more tempered degeneration or cooling through distraction. I can't seem to change the bacterial culture of my mind so it keeps on growing new thoughts of increasing complexity. At first just an amoeba of self-doubt, a single spored organism spelling out nothing more then the time past expiry. But as the days wear on and I sit unstirred, unsettled, unmixed, unrefrigerated I grow new life. A complex life form now that lives growing orange-yellow fields of fungus over my gestated hills. No longer recognizable, not even consumable by the most desperate, I sit in longing of the attention of a spoon, only to behold the incomprehensible conversations that one can have with their own mold. I am a complex organism now lost in a world of muti-celled creatures, untouchable as a louse, only to be admired with mild disgust and awe at the ridiculousness of it all. Just just a hairy euphonious caterpillar, making puss coloured smores on the sidewalk while laughing in the rain. Squish, splat, boom. Squish,splat boom. Walk it off kid, you'll be a moth yet, you'll have wings yet. Reconstitute those splattered organs and give me twenty. Come on kiddo, no need to lay dead to the world, pick your self out from under that shoe and lets see what you got.

Just a hairy euphonious caterpillar. . .