Last Hours?
What does one think about when engine failure occurs before take off?
Deplane or not, is this my final choice? Till 9 o'clock we wait. Troubleshoot the engine, they voice.
Through the looking glass I do watch, I do wonder. An evil red Queen with a head of thunder.
A series of misfortune befell me these past few days, no apple pie, no pumpkin latte.
Flying with defunct jets, through water cobwebbed skies. My mind does see ahead, is this our demise
Falling through the air, every bird's desire, every madman's dream. There's worse ways to go, I suppose.
I feel no terror, I do not fear death, I will live again in an infinity of milk and honey. Sail the seas, learn the things, love Love itself.
There is a time for silence though and that time is now, the future is mine and everything I do owe.
I'll see you again, in paradise, that apple pie will be ready, make sure you save a slice.
Deplane or not, this is my choice.
Choice, this is mine, not to deplane.
About the Creator
Jack Neverest
Just another small town boy... Or was he?
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making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskara day ago in Feast
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