Staurns Bordello

It's 11:11 AM...
Tiny green pixels assimilate illuminate as if stain glass came to life in the small four bit screen lighting up too two digit after sixty nano-seconds ascended past one digit in the digital clocks view slit on the Explorer dusty dash board; ascenders code sighted. These foretelling numbers stand for a new beginning; this fresh cycle draws in even more awareness to a young man's metanoia bones, enlightened blood. Sitting in his smooth leather car seat with his favorite flat screen, favorite writing chair, clothes and of course laptop that happen to be electric blue all packed in the back so full he can barely see the street cars honking behind him. Fresh enthusiastically he heads off after waiting, dazing up, at city traffic lights green and red threats. A new destiny prickles his will, his mind once programmed for sport programs and play station games found a new throne for his flowing thoughts too stay entombed too; a journey so true to the echo, the voice far beyond the unreasoning of humans subjugated lies. Now in a metanoia mind status aligned with the great system planets, you know those cosmic beings creeping around us; Pluto Saturn Jupiter. Out of their great convergences an echo is given logos (words) by our universe. Is this God? Could be? Or could this just be the beginning... The universes voice is the only true instrumental wisdom to the mind body and soul as this vessel journeys with the triad pieces that make us humane. Codes, synchronicities are from our beloved verse, universe... god. These are instantaneous words that have a rhythm to our personal experience to be part of our true reality. This personal communiquof words could be sprung from any song on the radio; another could be a conversation in the air or television sets unrealistic programming signals. These words harmonize like a fruity apple to our tasty buds. An apple-seed thought given to us by some almighty to help our flow with a universe and its magic happenings around it them us, me, you; split second maybe more but this unknown mystery pronounces itself to us every day noticed by a few crazies unnoticed by too many other fans of one reality. These words in those magic moments delivered to us reaching out somehow in a ghostly delivery service following our own train of thought at our precipitous of commonsense. Could this be a new instinct? Is this a new upgrade to our sixth sense for the new urban techno-environment? Or is this something more...
Another code we may be swayed to fancy are numbers like a dolphin to an enriching rolling coastal wave, for truth be said numbers our also symbols as the ancients of three millennia ago knew all too well; symbols brought great meaning to life in general. These reoccurring numbers could be reoccurring symbols. Clues meaning information that come to us like wind brings breathe to our true experience and lessons. Those promising insights can protect us and show us true love as a woman truly knows to care for a child. They promote new light bulb of careful ideas to manifest or not and sync within realities illusion; matrix. Urban instincts would catch both of these occurrences in this free spirited male sailing an explorer out to the sea of old faces into the new. It was happening everyday in his constant oil changing level fighting movie goers way of life these codes would come to the once city civil land surveyor like commercial breaks from a rerun television program. Our major sense is sight and it lured codes within as a movie trailer highlights our senses to go watch a theatre picture show. After a couple years of god codes flashing the American beer drinker that commonly would tilt the mug dabbling foam on a T-shirt marked buy some classic superhero turned movie star, another foam drops on his casual shorts and sandals but no more dabbles drops or everyday is a beer day type guy now he's focused and astute to the indescribable mysterious echo of the universe that guides him to where most all great beings find the light to creativity; west of America. Where wild meets the west, and some still subconsciously dare to recall this western ancient earth desert, savage land. It was west where this novice male voyager codes led the metanoia bones, healers' blood and heart of logos to begin his path to the light. Or it could bring him down too places of obscurity where vortexes are told to give magic its doom or due and stars reborn on Hollywood sidewalk floors. There is only one rout to take, and on it he went Route 10 West. 11:11 code was shown, ambition gassed up, as the venture drives up the on ramp leaving his old way and into the new. Inner belief charges, fights, confidence rises, this body is about to switch lanes from man reality to the magick belief...Inner God belief? He takes the lone trip away from his home town where the common archetypes are slave to tourist and gators sway in the Disney waters for a lucky bite on one fallen from the vast amusement park herds that stand single file to inject a stimulation uncommon to a consumer raiders way.
His first remote stop is a small hollow camp site almost resembling a hippie retreat located in the sunshine on gator infested states pan-handle. Never did this ordinary urban good fellow stray so far out his free-doom city limits before. Now with a universal voice giving bearing to his life's path he exits Route Ten with his own echo. Yes his own synapses, thundering bits of lightning electrifying lighting ideas from your guess are as good as mine but to this holy triad wonderer it must be creator. This was different it was not bull whips of lost time in an obscene labor blocking growth eroding him giving thin layers of guilt to play its mundane role of adultery or passing the accumulating patrons pleading for money and help; nor was it for a promotion and of course the sacrificial sex with the flocks of sociopaths that huttle like penguins in the cold dark arctic bearing beauty in a forbidden scene such as the classic affair. Not even a scheduled vacation. And it was not to meet a friend or even a love connection. This man not of the American sociopath sort exited the highway on his own godly thoughts. The curl lane takes him to a isolated road passing an abandoned Jai Alai giving thought to his pineal fire mind "Do they even still have that sport?", it looked like it's been decades since any teams padded buts or ran in them old wooden courts. His head turns away from the desolate parking lot of over growth to have a white friendly horse invite him in the camp site. Behind the wood pole fence the well maintained white breed animal follows the silver Explorers tires grinding down the dirt entrance road. This must be a sign of good fortune all the horse needed was a single horn to play unicorn and magic. Maybe it was... Truck stops gears shift to P for parking, he settles in with the keeper, prepares for the approaching cold night hoping a flasher streaks by from the far out hippy looking land.
The journey man finds a spot in the vacant grounds. Undisturbed by the loneliness, hands that once mastered remote controls now begin to pitch a small easy to mount tent poles Afterwards he pops open his ultra blue skin laptop for an evening under the stars with a Roland Emmirrich film. The skin over the eyes lay heavier than before credits scroll down the lighted monitor just near where he rest. Ready to lay rest toes stretch out snuggled in a sleeping bag and isolated safe from nagging nats mosquitoes bites in the small dome fabric prop up shelter he drifts to sleep. In thoughts anew the true echo spawns in his cerebral reminds the gentile it is going to awake another day farther away from the mindless propaganda in a cities air, from being stuck in descending generation where hopeless checks bring only despair, insurances con his wealth breaking his health raising a premium that is funded on his hopeless check; despair. Yet like Yoda small green wisdom elaborated in Empire Strikes Back "there is another", meaning another hope to look up in the expanding dark force in the universe. So it was this new hope that lights another dimension another way that begins in the mystic rocks of a crimson land due west. Tired eye lids weaken flap over but a faint remembrance of the blue fuzzy ball of light that came to him one clear evening night; an insight.
In a dark unforeseen night, a tiny light beam cracks threw the small opening and slits where strings puppet these white plastic horizontal mini shades of relief from peeping toms and harsh sunlight that may stain a monitor screen. From top to bottom within a window seal columned in a row panels that could probably be sought at your local Wal-Mart or Hardware store can no longer hold this white soft light any longer. It bursts into a dark room where a guy rest from playing a heavy duty mind bender console game Call of Duty something. This ghostly light ray touches the eye of the sleeper. Rapid eye movement ceases as reaction to the soft emerging energy solidifying mystifying waves of arouric imprint traveling in the descended light from beyond the window glass. Air suddenly turns winter brisk. If it wasn't the aurora white light that breaches the dark dreamer than surely the sudden frost air would wake the digital player. Coughing breathing ice air brought from tundra poles; he wakes. Bones shiver in the arctic presence. Each breathe brings the blistering north wind in his Florida humidified lungs till he looks around bringing his thoughts together from his deep state of the unknown. Eyes shutter adjust to the dark night. Risen up after each flap of his eye flaky lids the soft white beam that managed to seep out the blinds secured the awaken man greatest sense; sight. Almost resembling an untarnished brand new nickel plated liberty coin North America distributes as a currency shiny as if the sun was the culprit to this bright paralyzing glimmer. It stays there in a miraculous glow of white light almost pure spec of moonlight just lying on his grey shark color pillowcase where his once rested. Still fatigued and jittery wrapped in a comforter with quality threads the young commander of an elite force on flat screen scratches the back of his ears and sparks a guess in his once blank sleeping thoughts. Maybe it was a passing helicopter so many have gone thru the skies above but none he ever noticed to carry a ghostly blue border vibration hazing around the beams pure white glow. Sci-fi, fantasy, ancient aliens and comic books all came to some realization. His minds fascination grew and calculated many other possibilities leaving the unanswered questioned why has it not passed, by now. Not letting go of the comforters' warmth robed around his cold blood chilled bones he raises barely hitting his ill weaken dog. Just another foot-grip away is he from the window where the mysterious keyhole light protrudes from. His fingers poke thru depot department blinds to catch an extraordinary encounter. The natural pupil sight widens the curiosity and his eye lids to clarify his judgment; is he watching an encounter of the first kind. Throat sinks his voice dry's eyes evaluate again and yes it is out there in the darkest of weary night. It pulsates, as if a mini quasar had come down from space above, to show a personal truth to the digitally kidnapped thoughts of this young human. Above the shadows tree line near his house scattering the living darkness below with its faint soft blue array almost like a full moon softens our vision at night. If this thigle magick animation did not impress the sights of this ESPN follower in that blackest night than it was also his first guess lingering in the vague background. Almost faint if it were not for its spot light it propels further behind the visitors ghostly white hazy blue shell; both eye and machine trance to the hovering sphere of light. A pure sphere light not uncommon but a rare sight of insight to a human. God breaking thru the matrix immortal seed reaching an ascending entity was a profound experience of oneself a living manifesting being of god that teach Dzogchen a ancient Buddhist Tibetan system mystical in nature means Great Protection. It was only another code brighter than words or numbers, pure light. Old life is far gone, for now a hearts path just ahead a smile rolls upon this happy camper that night even with no flasher on homemade brownies. Mmmm...homemade brownies...
Next Day...
         A small puffy travelers' pillow keeps a neck from stiffening and crackling. It's been hours since his commitment eases off the gas pedal or stretch bone joints. Driven passed two unseen state lines, worries of the past fade away each passing mile like a well rolled joint fades the search for sex from a hungry sociopath. Forgetting life's past digressions and listening to the boreas west winds he speeds on to the next unforeseen state line that. Driving casually on the seventy-five miles an hour route cops creep out like an unexpected fly and buzz around the western routes' quad lanes. They indiscriminately as they say in the false media drive next to the casual man's driver's side lane. They approach with reaper eyes, the young man suspects these law enforcers think he will drowse on the wheel; so comfy in his driver seat position must seem like he's dreaming away. Drones of Saturn's laws hunger for attention; job promotion, money, raise, brings their attention closer to the voyagers quarry. Deepening thoughts sink in the drivers' mind, "Will they pillage ME with their infected probable cause clouding my journey to a spiritual success." Or will the stalked voyager falter to their prejudice? Neck tuck back hat low body resting as if an original gangster, their reaping eyes thirst for promotions must be cautious wary toward this vehicle operator. But they did not know the true passion of the brethren driver.
         Will power and faith keeps the vehicle operator from failing god's light or falling asleep to the bars of illusion imprinted beaten rebelled to believing in his American reality. So after many miles and a few exits the stalemate between the fly and light become a bore. This bore, truly ages these grim agents attention on the cruising Explorer calm subtle between the highway lines. Not fearing his posture the confident driver watches how the patrol car buzz away without laying any fray upon him and thus keeping this journey spiritual, faith alive kept to his young heart. After the black and white agents pulled away from him a man on the road caught the keen driver's attention. His stiff neck cracks finally lifting up and panning to the shoulder of the highway road. The man on the side of the road uses both of his hands to rub the back of his head as if great emotions stirred in this stranded body walking in small steps on the tar shoulder. It was just a man on the path where broken cars lean. Draped in hot red K-Mart wrinkled sweat jacket grungy pants scruffy hair. Maybe zombie maybe lost soul but the thoughts come and go on the hermit man down the shoulder highway road. Quickly, his neck returns to its straight posture back on its small pillow imprint; stiff, calm.
         Now hundred miles past...
The day drew long. He kept his neck steady eyes cautious to the paved lines on cracked concrete. Yet again like before his focus breaks from the highway road lanes. Again something familiar catches the eyes of the cross country wonderer. Once more remarkably the same exact man on the shoulder of the road he passed over a hundred miles ago is there again. Yes the same red hot K-Mart wrinkly sweat jacket scrawny son of gun could almost be the same guy or is he.
Nutrition lacked man even had the same posture; grief. Hands brushing aggravation threw his ripe hair at the same moment as the last instance many miles ago. "Was this possible?" The drivers mind stalled with this vertigo pattern. Another weird incident gives more questions more wonders to the head in stars operator adding more puzzles pieces to his realities maze in his new light. Did De Ja Vu just mind bend the cautious vehicle operator or did the strange man walking the cursed shoulder road catch a ride and somehow pass the drivers none stop vehicle Explorer speeding to the west. Impossible!... thought the journey man how could he have passed his cars velocity and get dropped off to walk in front of his path again in grief over a hundred miles away. But like all things in this traveler's past, it was let go. Now it was a thing of his past, seven miles past him now to be exact. To this roamer's thought and voice of the universe the de ja vu was no more another old memory and let go. For truth and the pursuit to happiness survives another day-light to the Boreas savage land.
Cruising into the last of the Gulf States the western bound man pledges a stop at the heart land of San Antonio, Texas. It was here where he wanted to visit his frail cousin. She was on the last phases of a doctor sentence. Shadows and fears harbor and nag her body but she was as tough Mexicana as they come. The lone some western wonder knew bad entities swirled the body like an unseen grim reaper, invisible to the eye but not his feelings. These dark forces are like silent crows waiting for that crumb in the parking lot. They sweep down anonymously un-seemingly like a cold breeze taking snap shot possessions reaping from our vulnerable frequencies (feelings: ill, hate sex and drunken minds). It was his human compassion that gave pause to his western paths passion and visit her one last time. In a narrow street broken concrete just a few miles from the Alamo he cruises up the small single broken driveway. Next to the car port a small ghetto home. Power lines hang like growing vines. With only a few feet of space till the neighbor's house, it wasn't Bay Hill the ritzy part of his home town, thought the brave traveler.
After a hot tasty homemade Mexican meal, shower and small family chatter with his older cousin the young man with days of driving under his belt and still miles ahead of him decides to retire to sleep. His cousin hospitality goes beyond his expectations she offers up her bed. He tries not to accept in his modest swagy way. His charms effect on his kin did not sway her from being an exceptional house guest. She scuffles her bedroom slippers on the gold polyester carpet on threw the small hallway to a closed door. She turns the loose golden knob. The musky smell of death brushes the senses of the young man. He knows if he enters he would feel the cold embrace of the dark matter reigning upon this hollow room. It was a choice he must savor to keep the generous smile, which protected her from the snap shot reapers sweeping down taking bits of her already weaken life-force.
The following morning he awakens. The morning star still hasn't peaked sunlight threw the white drapes with cheap fringe. His soft blinks clear the gloss on his eyes to the arriving daylight. Staring up at the ceiling he recollects his grim dream like a bad vision. In his past research and notes the traveler had found dreams come to us with messages to our retro reality. In this sleeping signal the young man remembers feeling trapped yet free but not in a box or in chains not even maze. No, this was more like not being seen noticed touched by the rest of the human race. He felt paranoid stuck in that dreamscape. The reminiscing scene was of him walking on a clear day sun beats down on a commuting pothole street. His astro-body waited for the street walk signal to flicker green. It did and he crossed the street walk. Tripping over a pot hole he tips into the crowd. He looks up to notice the crowd paid no breath to his blunder. Quickly away he went ranting and panicking. Not a pair of eyes blinked in the crowd his traumatized way. Panicked and disturbed he pushed cursed and screamed out to find an empty response out of the flowing stream of t he few dozen commuting bodies. "Dreams of mine, what do they tell me?" he asks.
His eyes widen from the remembrance of his silent sleeping transmission. The musky smell of the dark presence didn't ease his already eerie comfort. What was this vivid message alerting this ascending man of? Sun light starts to show. Brightness reveals to him that the room had a retro Psycho movie look to it. It was Normans' dead Mothers room. Thoughts quickly finally cleared and his choice was simple. It's time to go and return to the pursuit of the Boreas west.
Behind the round kitchen table he quietly waited for his tortilla and morning baked beans she traditional has made since the young man can recall. Not mentioning his dream to his cousin's vulnerable smile and disturb her already fading happiness he simply glues a smile that morning day. Fresh and clean he munches the platter, collects his belongings, gives hugs and kisses and turns his key ignition. Voom, voom again he presses on to the mysterious scarlet land of the rocky west.
On the road again, he dismisses his dark tale in San Antonio and instead feels the breeze of the car wind. He twinkle's his left hand fingers to the speeding winds as if casting a spell. His thoughts dare not conjure in a moving vehicle. The feel of his hand cuts the air gave an elemental ease like water stream in this lone some long journey he had taken. Airs touch rushing like a river of wind thru the finger tips knuckles and palm illuminated joy within in this small moment with the winds of earth. It's the joy that causes time to escape him from the passing mileage, small towns, junction towns and old mining towns. The wonderer of sorts passed many places but none gave way to sway him back home just yet. So on the road he went till noon past to dusk and dusk to closing light of the setting sunset. Still the vigilant young man gave much vitality as the fallen night came to be. As a brisk night prevails so did his foot eases from the gas reducing the voyager's speed on the free blackening road.
Slowly lights of small towns dissipate from the rear view mirrors' pitch black night void reflection. Shifting lanes wither into one. All that gave bear to the consuming dark were yellow road markers constant repetitive flashes of relief. The young man tried to see out the car door windows but all there was, was only black emptiness. Only the car head lights reveal concrete path and its cracks. Blasting God Smack a rock band in the output of his receiver to the speakers keeps him sustained in the isolated bleak twilight. Still focus mind bearing west to the small western town of mysticism.
He breathes...
The fresh white cotton motel sheets gave him a scent of renewal to this new day. It is only a canyon left to pass till he reaches land of the red rock. Not slacking away to his crystal sticky marijuana buds although a meditation with chakra crystals did come to be. The reek of his green tobacco collected in the nostrils of college student's curiosity to their zombie world a door not too far away. "Pass the gungha, We love the bud big guy", zombie zanny words to get faded did not indulge this one man on the path. Quiet and steady almost android like as passion possessed him once again and knowing his time was needed in a place somewhere else still a distance away from here. He mounted back on his leather seat that April fools day and took switchback roads and ear popping elevations down to his path of light.
Dangerous crumbling cliff, guarded by just a metal bar the young man never felt so adventurous thrilled to be where he was once not. His mind ponders in excitement, which rocky hike trail would be the one to break his hiking shoes virgin soles? Creeping deeper inside the shadows cracked mountain cavern walls he stayed careful behind the wheel alert to the task of reaching the apartment he had found quite effectively with the internet site craigslist before he left his city residents. He observes the rocks and trees, nature, as he had not seen it in his long life while on earth. The magic the voice the vortexes what mysteries do they hold for would be Jesus, unveiling mind, and true heart. Was the code true to his heart? Or has the invisible reaper wrapped trickster raven claws around his feelings? Luring him to these strange lands? These thoughts inspire the traveler as he gazes at a sign notifying him only a few miles now to the gypsy like town. On the daring cliffs he went closer to a new beginning a new way...or alternative ending...
Shady knob shakes rattles opens the front door to fresh carpet apartment. The divided space of the place was enough for the lone ace. He scouted the room bathroom kitchen but it wasn't until he returned to the living room where he sees it. The awe struck. It was a surreal view of the red rock cliffs out the front window. The nimbus clouds coast over the peaks giving his mysterious path more to enrich his mortal changing to immortality. This was it he was thinking mesmerized and fulfilled one more piece of the journey one more code from his beloved universe. He stands their senses engulfe admire the fresh carpets aroma thoughts manifest pounder good feelings as the silent voice in his throne or as the unknown say it "in the mind", says silently within "Sweet!". That sure voice that never ceased that kept telling him, reminding him to go further go harder into the mystery into the vortexes; to here....
He quickly unpacks his flat screen, camping gear, writing chair, books and clothes. Only a mat to sleep on he was neither bothered, nor disturbed with his accommodation. What gave him acute disturbance was that his new neighbors were not used to a man leaving his door wide open; free. The wonder observed in his six unit shoe box design complex, there were females living on the bottom and males on top. The new resident unit number was six, it sat on the corner with the admirable view and tall juniper tree to shade him from the sun coming out the canyon wall across the way...something settled inside him confirming he was home...for now.
Joy prosperity grew alongside with his quick comfort in the scenic view of unit six apartments. As the day rapidly shortened the young man showered in his new dwelling. He then gathered his crystals he managed to buy at a book store in his old town arranged them in a circle on the new carpet floor inside the pi alignment like many before him on his but crossing his legs he sat. With a candle tear flame and soothing soul Renkie music his mind traveled deep to sights only few can phantom, to reveal the others. The others are energy beings on a higher plain of existence. This energy possesses us like the reapers but this enriching energy from light guides our body away from the possessing sexual antics and manmade fear monger emotions. This invited universal energy lifts our reality to keep us aware and filters the noise made by man. It lavenders are choices and instincts to a higher level of progression. Egyptians called this the field of the blessed. Sometimes the energy of the blessed send visions in a meditated state. The visions could be warnings or rarely sometimes they send a bigger picture. Like the codes of the universe these insights come like calligraphy. Messages from the other plain can only come scrabbled from another dimension blessed or not. It's the kink in the string of realities. When one seclude and quiets the mind from, loud programs misinterpreted songs and sociopaths words for reaper sex, the gimmicks become emptiness and a new world responds to our thoughts; a veil lifted. In this revelation the young journeyers' mind saw something very troubling. Black doll eyes were the vision that came to him followed by quiet whispers in the wind breezing, Jezebel. He pops his sharp eyes to find some meaning in this. He quickly responds by writing in his journal. "What is this new vision? What does it mean?" The evening winds became hallow as they thrashed in the arriving night. Is it a new code to the novice player of spiritual life? The young ascending throne (mind) knew that now within his dreams, imagination becomes like a wizard's crystal ball. Meaning to this strange vision will soon bare light. And so as the stars crossed the sky so did the wonders body's legs and arms. He lies in the apartment a mind set to dream maybe this message of sleep bring a lucid sight he seeks into a clue of the beady eyed vision.
Bang, boom... boom... boom... The night silence shook by unknown tremor. The sleeping body of the wonder wakes to it senses from its subtle state in unit six. Eye lids crack open. They blink to an announcement that reminds the young man of his college experiences. But this was not a college dorm. As he became more aware of the night he could hear the television down stairs rise in volume. Moments later the booms of the wall silenced. But quickly a noise rose above the television monologues it was slow at first then it got monstrous. Slimeblup... slushsquirt... and slickeeow.... These sounds over came the quiet hallow wind that night. These villainous noises stirred the night till light pronounced its breath. Like vampires squirming evading before burning sunlight laying waste their midnight sin of murders, so did what seemed to be the sounds of this gory water serpent below unit six. As the dark descended into its place the disturbed traveler takes what's left of the night to rest.
Sunlight strikes rested lids of the sound sleeper. He quickly whisks away sheets from the body straight soft mat floor wanting to badly know what that noise was last night making them sea monster boiling rants. In his front balcony innocently he ate his oatmeal and fresh sliced bananas with tall glass apple juice. The sun is steadily climbing to its daily heights in the early canyon hours. Birds and crows pronounce the early day. A rear truck alarm sounds off. Like a rooster a dump truck not too far off brings the red rock alive. A buzz in his pocket alerts the young gent that a notice is on his smart phone. He twiddles the glass plate to a message that is about Saturn. Today Earth and Saturn planet bodies are going to reach their closest distance in the system of planets tonight and it was going to be accompanied by a full moon during the mid-night hours. Eyes rise from the phone application to see busy bees of people in the canyon rocks they suddenly shift as woman walks out the bottom unit. She instantly reminds him of a softball player maybe a catcher big bone and butch. He stays poised in his balcony, not knowing quite what to say. He wants to wave but something pause his gesture of motion. She raises her eyes they seem like black doll eyes. From his distance he saw beady black eyes glimpse up at him followed by a cold breeze brisling his tropical skin too shivers and ripples. Does his sense, sense something? Were those eyes real? Was that what his vision was telling him? Beware of this woman, why?
He stays observant as the sun warms his skin back to the norm. His eyes catch another younger lady depart the complex. This younger lady is thinner and has a Mortisha Adams hair style. Trance dark eerie feelings came over his position. Yet her nice tan skin and fine ass made them warning thoughts fall to disbelief. The guy admired hooked and lured imagination to see her physic in a thong at a beach until she too peeked up. He saw yet another beady eye alien doll eyes. Wanting to wave for sure but choked as the vision reminded him the doll eyes of doom. Relieved as she pulls out her car and he catches a breath. What's in this neighborhood? Why do they have black doll eyes? Another thing added to his exploration he imagined. He lifts his glass and sips up his juice but as he rests the cup on the rail a third women leaves the complex. This small petite scrawny cougar fashion female was older than the other two. She had bug eyed sunglasses covering her eyes but happened to wave at the journey man sipping his juice. Bug eyes gave a sweet but treacherous smile. Not yet used to the wilds of the west the young man waves with a bit of a delight that she was not such a zombie but a person a norm. Then an odd man next to unit six quickly hustles out waving and smiling with normal eyes giving relief to his dark thoughts of the women he saw earlier. Now that he patrolled observed his neighbors he prepares for the exploration around town.
Shops distributed crystals revealing earth's secret minerals and healing powers they hold for our body. It was as if he too ate an apple from the tree of knowledge in Edens garden. It was an Easter egg hunt of possibilities he gathered as many shards and prisms to add to his chakra crystal collection for the inner spirits own intuitive knowledge. His mind fills with thoughts of meditation and which elemental earth would fulfill dreams and magic. The fresh cool air of the shops gave refuge to the western heat as he bikes shop to shop. After a couple of hours cruising around town the crystal consumer knew it was time to set off and see the nature side of the canyon creek.
Red and black hike shoes rotate pedals quickly wanting yearning to feel its rubber grip under anxious feet the rich natural native land. He pedaled to a fantasy of trails. Some were for bikes others for hikes and others trails advance in both. He winded a lock chain around his companion red and white mountaineer bike to a sturdy jasper tree. Back pack secure bike locked he begins to huff it. He takes out his journal and studies notes he had written a year ago. There is a trail leads to a vortex he had been researching somewhere about in these badlands. The traveler climbs up the rigid natural carved red rock steps. Feeling something indescribable, the ascending master is neither unfettered to fear nor exhausted with doubt. His vitality took his body high as if accompanying Michael Jordan up a cliff in one of his champion classical Gatorade commercials. Climbing stretching he reaches the cliff up high above the traffic and past the crows and sparrows. Up on top the bell shape rock mount in the high winds he unpacks stuff within his camouflage back pack; journal binoculars flute pen camera phone sage and crystals. Crossed his legs on the edge of the high ledge and thought of dreams and releasing negativity as he played a tune high up in the nimbus life.
In the night of that day back in the place he now calls home the wonderer feels the toll from the miles of terrain he pedaled during the day. After he showered and brushed his teeth his muscle begin to tighten, joints slow and ache. Looking at himself in the clean new mirror as he rinsed his mouth off with non fluoride suds he felt something different. It was different in his thoughts in his heart how things were to come. A future now in a different spectrum has lighted on to the traveler's rhythm of knowledge and thought. A mind coming to peace with its bones and blood he preps for bed. He leaves the window open to feel the harsh winds mediate his being for the night. Finger flicks the last light bulb off but shadows still feast for the full moons feminine gaze lights harmonious in his living room quarters. There he glimpses the space offing of the moon and great Saturn, a cosmic teacher to some a, grim reaper to many unknown to the inner light; men and women alike. And so under her soft moon light, planet and stars the tired biker finally rested his hike.
Lava bubbles blurp and burst all around the magma pit within Heidis' dark char brimstone down in the grand inner world tavern. Many pits boil in this endless chamber of charcoal land bridges filled with humans forsaken into sin lands and stuck joker faces from their last lying smile. They wait like a turn stile to a new Disney amusement ride. They drop voluntarily, some laughing, falling into the putrid boils of fire and living hell. The screams screeched deep within the dreaming mind of the wonderer. Rapid eye movements twitch shift from hells vision. Suddenly eye balls pop out awaken to the shuffling of blinds of his apartment. The winds potency rose thru the night. The awoken young man seals the panel window winds hustle fell to silence. Only the return of putrid deep repeats again. Slimeblup... slushsquirt...slickeeow gurgles from the weak flooring into another night's horrid fiasco. Annoyed disturbed tired the traveler musters and complains to himself, "it's my birth-write to sleep is it not". He gave it a worth pulling the pillows over his ears but then the television volume rose louder threw the floor he was laying on...again. The estranged traveler from the east coast closed his eyes and began to imagine himself to sleep till the bang and boom of doom erupted.
Boom.... Boom.... Boom.... Bang...Gurgle...Gurgle. Not understanding any truth to this pattern he gave a gasping a yelp "Quiet Please!" Ignored and now the slush slime and slick voice of the sea like serpent dares and flushes words of curse and hate before it gives the night to the travelers peace and sleep. The journey man once a rebel without a cause reacts to his old ways and without much thought went to action. The serpent gropes bangs its slush slurps out its bile below being the agent to his corrupting dreams. His old rebellion fire stirs crazy and in moments he's buckling his belt and tying shoes heading out in the brisk winds of the canyon night. He steps out to the feminine bright moon light. The grey satellite silica reflects on to earth. It gives a lighted path as he walks down the stairs. Wondering eyes uncontrollably stare up to the stars by the billions he notices the sight of the milky-way galaxy just above his head. It was even visible with the moons full brightness. Also there in the back of the moon Saturn in its distance but at it's very closest; for a coming while that is. It was a sight to glare upon and ten minutes was all there was to see then he continued back down the flight of stairs to see if he could manage some overdue sleep. The young man saw shadows within dim light behind the plastic blinds in the unit below his own. Their definitely not asleep he quickly thinks. He knocks and asks if everything was ok with those shadows inside. Whispers and groans and laughing tones gave a weird confusion to the tired man from the east. He knocks again only to have the door open a crack. In the grim shadows of dark behind the crack door in the unit below his own; something moves swaying in the bleak darkness. Glossy gooey eyes, three pairs floated on top another as if one; a spider. Mirror black pearl soulless balls gloated at the man searching for sleep. Unfamiliar with his sights the young man looks closer squinting not quite believing what is before him. Crooked arms move like Shiva too the still frozen mesmerized man. Trance streaky hair swirl as if gravity lost its hold they reflect the moons light illumine strains resembling the Greece goddess medusas snake head. Groap slush the mysterious thing went in the black shadows. Still he is paralyzed stuck. From deep in the dark fingers wrinkly bitter reach out from the dark opened door like a sudden bite from a black widow. Its dark clutch vortexes suck the existence of the searcher inside the black hole beyond the door. The front door snaps shut groaping and slushing behind its closed wake. Red pixels flash 4:44 a.m. the night winds moan blowing vulnerably in the empty walls of apartment six swaying the desolate open door that spirited man once used. A loud single groap barf is belched...
A television set volume is lowered to off... hollow winds moan...Click!