it’s early, hi …
hardly ever, bad dreams shook me up, but last night(or perhaps hours ago) was an exception, probably in sequel to THAT incident.
a dream where i imagined myself to be a vermin, a cockroach. struggling to attend work despite my frail and deformed body.
every morning, i fed on rotten cheese and sour milk while oddly taking pleasure in the strumming of a violin not too distant.
my corrupted new outlook was a blessing in disguise, it made me recognised my family members for who they are; money grunting pigs without an ounce of sympathy.
our housing loan weigh the world to them, so much so i suspect my upbringing was engineered only to make me an instrument to thin our debts.
however, being the habitual wimp, i didn’t allow my suspicion to take me far, and cowardly believed in the “power” of ignoring.
towards the end, i was exhausted, both physically and mentally, so severe i could feel my soul floating as the grim reaper made frequent visits for me.
staring at the taunts of the checkered flag, i was un-satisfied of course, the way my life was led.
with all my remaining vigor, i crawled like a crippled insect, heading to the backyard garden.
at there, i naively hope to borrow the strength of “gods” to rewind my life.
but gentlemen, as can you see, as the word “insect” would suggest; worthless and pathetic, my attempt was nothing more than a desperate grapple with life.
awaiting anxiously beside the flower bed, welcoming me with scythe and shovels, stood my family.
on my deathbed, or in this case, soil, all i heard was vague incessant mocking while earth and worms filled my throat.
as soon as dirt fully covered my vision, spontaneously, as if my lungs were filled with helium, my soul swam up the sky.
granted, or rather, cursed with clear consciousness, i surveyed through their merry celebration upon my burial, while so, the thought of “parricide” easily endeavored me.
however, remaining pitiful and lowly, there was nothing i could do, could i?
without any navigation over myself, i floated like a balloon, till those “vermins” escape my sight and hate, till the clouds ring me, till you woke me up.
literature enthusiast should find my dream familiar. *GRIN*
weird shit writing? i like (y)