Way-out broadcast


I wake up. I stop. I stare. I sit up in bed. I reach for that all too familiar cigarette. I light it up. The flame from my lighter ignites the room enveloped in darkness with its amber qualities. Sunrise? Or sunrise soon to come.... I inhale then exhale. A myriad of shapes and contours form from the billowy smoke of my stick. Highlighted by one small slip of light piercing thru the blinds of my window. Twisting and turning this smoke as it crosses this weak light. Rising to the top of my room. Desolate. Dark. Cold. Safety in the dark. No repercussions. No warnings. Nothing. Just the dark in all its glory. The cold stench of shadows haunt this room. Ghosts of the pasts seep to and fro. Ghosts of the future lie in wait. Ghosts of the present stop and stare me down. I kill my cigarette. I retreat to the warmth and serenity of my blanket. Its motherly qualities endure me like a child nestled in the mothers womb. I cover my eyes with my pillow. Enveloping my eyes with its lite patterns. The wind gusts and howls through my window screen. Exuding a sound eerie like. Yet comfortable. Streams of thoughts flow thru my brain at a frame rate of 5000 Kbps. Past. Present. Future. The now. The tomorrows. The befores. Flashbacks. Visions. Details. Time. Its quiet. Maybe too quiet. I dont care. I dont really give a fuck. I am at bliss with the now. This dark room. This open space. These free wheeling thoughts. My minds eye blinks furiously. I sit back up. I survey my surroundings. I see nothing. I see the dark. I close my eyes. I see color. I see life. I see occasions. I see imagination. I see dreams. I open my eyes. I flounder back into bed. I close my eyes once more. I force myself to sleep. I dream the dream of dreams. I curl up with my pillow. I feel juxtaposed. As if im in my girlfriends arms. Her arms. My cradle. My heaven. I wake up again. I sit back up. I reach for that all too familiar cigarette. I stare at it. I see mistakes. I see reruns. I see replays. I sense guilt. I sense anger. I remember grief. I see this cigarette. I light it up. I let the flame of my lighter linger. I see light. I see clearly. I clean my thoughts. I puff from my cigarette. I feel it rush inside me like a air leaving a vacuum void. I exhale. I feel better. I think of life. Vacuous. Vicious. Rewarding. Blessed. I. We. You. Us. We are all students in the subject of life. Class begins from the moment we wake and pauses as we fall asleep. With sleep being the equivalent of recess where we are brought back to the time when we were children. And we sip our juice and eat our snacks. And we play. Then the bell rings and its back to class. We wake up. No, we are not graded. We may fail or we may succeed. The choice is ours. We attain higher learning, yet we will never receive our diplomas til our death. And yet questions still linger by that time. But we feel something new at that end. We feel contentment. I kill my cigarette. I flounder back in bed. I close my eyes. I sleep and once more dream the dream of dreams. I am where i want to be. I am at peace....