Bardo

         I am being chased, chased, chased. The id with it’s floppy fedora, skeletal face and bitchin camero parked around the corner is after me. This is one of those monsters that are too modernized for bardo. Needless to say I am running for my life in such terror but I can still hear birds waking up to morning and safe fields with clean water in it’s nooks. If I were to show you how afraid I am right now you would grow so little that particle physicists would give up on you. You would also in the same vein become so large, blacking out suns and suns and more suns from all galaxies now and then. I would have to open my chest like a flap or page in a book and show you wicked terror that feasts inside creating its own event horizon to trap all compassion. I just want to be free but this terror of death, loss, shadows everything. There is a static film lightly over everything as I reach out to think and form thoughts I get shocked and it hurts me. What I wouldn’t give to be in a carved ivory boat with chain mail oars and currents over the shallows guiding my way. Yet all that is left is to breath, compulsively engage in habits that deter my breathing and consume this that and everything in embarrassing quantities. I’ve given price its dignity but still have to call this person , or that person to confirm schedule, modulate and reciprocate and it makes me sooo tired.

This is simply an excerpt of now, one that I pray with due diligence will dissipate quickly and restore comfort. I can at least ask “Is this real?”. Am I locked by my own dooms day perception? I think so.