Self-Fulfilment.

Cue hyperactive, chirping music.

Cue dancing man, wearing a grin as big as the blue sky overhead

Cue suburban imagery, beautiful plants, sepia tone garage doors,

Cue luxury car,

Cue FedEx deliveryman,

Cue the happy, beautiful, dream-like land.

Cue the television ad,

Sensory overload, a pill for your most special gland

Cue the flurry,

Cue the rehearsed joy,

Cue the disguised medicated turmoil,

Cue luxury car,

Cue FedEx Van,

Cue the happy, dancing man

The dancing man,

Wearing his sharp suit,

He's fulfilled, because his penis is wood

Autumn's Fog

Driving down the dark stretch of road after a long day, my surroundings seem unfamiliar. Senses exhausted, one eye twitching from a lack of sleep... the world around melts in the soft autumn's fog... the music on the radio plays... incoherent voices... an old one-hit-wonder, the strange sounds resonating... melding around my mind... like that same fog surrounding the constantly moving car...

Constantly moving... ever in motion, always trying to reach some destination... amidst the haze, the comfortable disorientation, an old passing landmark catches my eye... hiding in the darkness and the fog of the night, the small piece of land, lying side by side the empty and now baren corn fields, awakens me only slightly out of the faze... a distant, distinct, metallic taste lingers in the back of my mouth... the passing sense of its existence at first foreign to my tongue... as the sensation leaves my body, my mind begins to place the taste... the feelings... my mind places the meaning...

An old deserted graveyard, fallen leaves, a naive mind and a heart eager to experience its first break... the cold feel of a late October frost, the sloppy, tingling hands of teenagers... eager hearts... one looking... desperately searching to mend... another yearning to open to something real... something incandescent, intangible, and ever fleeting.