In a dark, strange and quiet night picture.
Everything looks sharp. Nobody about, just me roaming streets.
Looking at the slabs on the pavement and there it is.
A message in some sort of ancient writing.
All over the paving stones, it’s fucking everywhere! Why hadn’t I noticed this before?
I can’t read it, it’s old language, an alien script.
Layers upon layers of ancient writing. It’s not just on the stones, but in them deep, three dimensional, like a hologram.
I want to read it, to understand its wisdom, but I can’t. There’s no hope! No hope.
Vomit comes out in a perfect circle, lands on the floor bubbling. Its fucking bubbling!
I stand there looking at it fizzing and boiling.
Walking away and all the passenger doors are open. It’s a car stereo thief done it, but the look of it, mysterious, possibly supernatural.
I walk for a while and fall over on the path, laughing. Crazy laughing at black sky, at nothing, like falling through life and death, a dream that don’t matter, don’t mean shit.
I know nothing, just mad laughter.
Why am I laughing?
I don’t really know.
I get up and walk. I find myself in the park and lying there looking up at the dark sky, with trees rising over me like mad black claws coming out the ground.
Everything is just right. I lie there feeling the power runnin’ round my veins. My blood knows forever this crazy delirium, with an idiot’s wisdom flowin’ through it. This feeling is old, in me from childhood, memories back infinitely into distant nothing and everything.
Rob True was born in London 1971. He left school with no qualifications, dyslexic and mad, in a world he didn’t fit into. He got lost in an abyss, was sectioned twice and spent the best part of a decade on another planet. He returned to earth just in time for the new millennium, found a way to get on in life, married a beautiful girl and lived happily ever after. She taught him how to use paragraphs and punctuation and his writing has been a bit better ever since. Find him on Twitter at: https://twitter.com/robjtrue