thetinmanchronicle

I played Tetris for three hours last night, up, left, right, down, watching the mossy earth collapse under the weight of an 8-bit L block, angular landscapes, plump, satured squares like berries ripe for the picking and lines that tumble from the sky, parachuting their rigidity onto filled canvases. Gone are the etchings of Guernica, suddenly disappearing into sea-foam white, visions of wide-eyed Mona Lisa lifting her chin, a grimace formed on those tights lips in anticipation of crashing geometry.

She tilts her head and i am suddenly a skeptic of science - as if parted lips could blow away the gravity from my feet, and send me floating from this park bench into the sun.

In the garden by the creek, I grow bones. Tulips take the form of skeletal hands, Roses I construct from cages the color of moonlight. The seed is my own soul, bare and deconstructed - growing, but growing only unlife. They are my reminders of you, each flower never wilting, alone in their angles and the smoothness of their shells for you, darling, I would plant a million flowers.

Invent a dunce cap gun. Shoot all idiots.

Action, focus the starlight on an Adam and an Eve. This is only the first scene, camera zoom to an apple and a tree.

I'm certain now it was the blindness that came first - Before the lights flickered and popped like bulbous veins We lost our sight just in time to avoid the garbagebag-black. It's too bad because we wouldn't have missed the Tom Cruises penetrating new layers of space singularly propulsed by Oprah's springy couch, and we wouldn't have missed the universe being saved by 7 dwarves, 33 Chilean miners and 1 legend dying. And all we can do now is remember to put the jello in the fridge because we're stuck with the darkness and every meal until infinity will be a midnight snack.

The concept of Nothing was birthed of a blessing. Or perhaps just a question of simple digression.

I see synthetic glows, the neon numbers of a speedometer. We are on a stallion made of tempered aluminum and carbon fiber, riding towards (or away from) freedom (or shackles). I look over at you and you are asleep. I have a promise to keep - I will wake you when we're there.

 to the avenue rumbling, the streetlight flickering discos and the perpetual headnod to cigarettes burned silent, without the smoldering of thin paper or the crackle of intake to hotel key cards scattered like post-modern tarot on concrete ,thank you.