He held it upside down turned his head right side up he turned it sideways and still it did not make sense it just was there nonsensically defiantly and totally illusory. He put it down on the closet and put himself on his bed laying facing the other way wishing maniacally it would catch fire and the page would evaporate into the smoke to choke him asleep. He wanted to sleep. But a smile poked his eyes and he cried and he stopped he slapped himself like he was knocking the world ‘the boat capsized’ out of his memory but it was stitched to his eyes and tattooed all over his body and graffitied all over the room that was not his room but a time capsule shielding him from his story. He grabbed a bag and grabbed his heart and stuffed it into the bag with clothes packed his scattered life and slung it over his back and ran out the door didn’t even close it left the paper on the closet where he left it to forget it. He looked for their faces or their bones but he never found a thing besides the great wide sea. He sat down on the beach and never returned to the room what wasn’t his own or his home that was long ago rubble and scattered so he sat there until the stars evaporated and freezing he was still just there heavy and nonsensically ironically light and illusory.
Image Credit: Paul Klee