“That Rolling Stone Gathers the Moss Fungus”

Difficult and burning to see how uncultivated my life has been, so far. I have been very, very depressed and violently sick, off and on, throughout life. I have hated life with a deep and unyielding hate, a hate that has been crippling, in itself—causing more difficulty and despair. For long of peace, I have tried to make peace with my disposition, here. I have not gathered what could ever make life permanently meriting, because there is the concurring sourness of death; death comes with no regard of the happiness I find in life. Being a man, I feel pain, easily, whenever I attempt to let go; it makes for an interesting glance of daggers. This leaving of life, I will have to suffer, one way or another ... I cannot escape it ... .

Here I am, a thing of the past—living, walking, breathing, talking—wait, you know the drill! I don’t know why you expect me to write that all out, but you got another thing coming! I am this tall, dark, African-American man, and I have a pointy little head; it thinks of the weirdest things, of times. I could imagine I could fly, at any minute, and hurl myself off the side of a mountain, only to find I am just waking up in the morning and wondering what to eat. "Hunger", what is this sensation? It is not much more than a burden, as with the hurling of myself off the mountainside, to no avail. I seem to land back in life over and again. Stepping slowly out of bed, I noticed the alarm clock has failed to do its job, but I cannot gainfully fire the damned thing—it may have wayward siblings, somewhere, causing a major ruckus—I would only begin to feel a guilt over it! I guess I will have to get a higher paying job to afford a better clock—I don’t know. I scratch my head in disbelief, but I am certainly running late, as it is. “What the hell”, is my new demeanor, and I will have to work around it all day, now. People will stare! O'my! I have to find a way to hide my feelings! "Anxiety", who, the hell, needs you--you always make a strange, bizarre mess of things to come--why are you here?! Go away! Don’t make me have to clock you one! I am tired of being hungry and indefinitely late, after a blind leap; and, more, waking up with a hunger and a non-cackling clock (with a world full of wayward siblings)—damn that!

On my way out the door, as you all know, I am heading to work—you follow, or is it, f, fellow, f, fallow, f, frio? I don’t know, you know—just stick "with me", not "to me"--we're going to get through this together. I think. "Doubt"—why you never let me believe in anything—you dank, little, unabashed glitch of beings! I don’t—how did you get in here, anyway? (I was just leaving.) No, you are not going with us—there is no more room left in the ... what the ... ? Where, the hell, is my car? I just bought that thing yesterday! A--A--A--A--A--A--H! (That’s it--just let it all out!) Shut up! By the way, that is the smartest thing you have ever been about ... my whole life witnessing your presence! (Thank y ... ) Shut up! You are not welcome! "Anger"; this is where things get interesting—are you all, still, f, fooling, f, f, fallow -ing ... whatever? Catch up, if you can. Why can’t I ever catch those, careless, little thieves, while they are taking my things? I have a faith, not unlike a mustard seed; but let’s see what happens when I attempt to cultivate my beliefs ... huh, must be because ... ? "Doubt"--get back ... you’ll ruin it--I know you--I know what you do ... ! I'm hoping, wishing, praying, looking, peeping, falling--to sleep—whoa! What does a mustard seed look like (Un-credible Bulk), or something? This shit’s harder than I thought! If I could, just, get, the SEED to, do it ... ? Well, after three grueling miles walking to the local “Interstellar Herbs and Garden" store, I find a "mus—tard-seed" ... what, the hell, is this ... some kind of sick, herbal-tender’s joke? Can you see a smile on my face, kid? Wait, don’t answer that! Do you know if this is a "mustard seed", or something else? (Yes ... ) Why are you shaking so much—yes to what, it is, or it is not ... ? (Yes, sir, it is ... ) Is what--not a "mustard seed", huh? (It is a mus, tard, s, s, seed, s, sir.) You are starting to make me nervous, because of your shaking like that; and I’ve had a terrible start of the day, already! This is a mustard seed, huh ... why does this package say, “mus—tard-seed”, then? Stop shaking, already! Where is your manager; I would like to have a talk with them? (M ... ) Hey, what is your problem, guy—don’t lie to me, either? You don’t like that I’m taking the last mustard seed you have, huh? So, this is a mustard seed, after all? (Yes, si ... ) Shut up! I’ll take it! How much? (Five ... ) What ... five dollars ... five hundred dollars ... five what? (Five cents, sir.) I was close, wasn’t I? (Yes, s, s, sir ... ) I thought you were going to tell me the truth, but that is a lie--I was nowhere close—give me my money back, or I’ll scream and start a riot! "Fear!"--you falsely rated, hot-sauce-spewing, devilish carnivore! Kid—wait! Don't—don’t call the cops! I’m sorry I scared you like that ... s-Shit! I’m African, African, African! I might not make it out of here alive; I’m in, even, bigger shit! 'What, the hell, to do, in a situation like this ... ?' --EAT THE "MUS—TARD-SEED", and BELIEVE, QUICKLY ... o-O' GOD ... !

I’m wa—king up ... a—gain ... hum ... in the garden of those who've Eaten ... Anyone care for a gaseous display of affection ... "mus—tard-seeds" have a strange effect? :0(

Written By, Darkest Angel
Written April 4, 2010
r.w. November 11, 2010