Mind of Time

Time is a mysterious force. Today I walked rather briskly listening to my mp3 player. "That Ain't Bad" - Ratcat playing. Somehow I managed to get all the way to the Salmon House with the song still rattling through the headphones. Surely I couldn't have walked so fast, it felt like an arduous trek across plains and through valleys. Of light and dark; life and death. The sky above me pregnant and labour threatening.

One step, two step, six and seven all good children go to heaven, wish I may wish I might have this wish I wish tonight. Salmon House flew by in the blink of an eye, in ten paces. The song changed to "Truth Beneath The Rose" - Within Temptation and the sky gave birth to millions of hail spawn, gaily bouncing down to the already sodden Earth.

Recycled Water In Use. I look past the sign, through the mesh and see the football oval, luminous green. I look up at the sky. Anyone could erect such a sign even in the tropics. Water is evaporated, condenses into clouds and the molecules do the Jitterbug and the Hot Shoe Shuffle and break away to form a liquid mass somewhere below for the cycle to continue.

Recycle.

The hedges that edge the lawn bowls club have some sort of strange perfume that randomly triggers memories lain hidden and dormant in my mind. This one scent in particular reminded me of carefully maintained lavatories in certain elderly people's bathrooms or social halls. Where have I been? Who are these strangers I can hardly see? They are the ghosts of the past, the present and of the future. They are ghosts from the lives I've never lived.

I decided to have some lunch at my workplace and read a tattered copy of the days paper. I felt like I had been sitting there for a hundred years but I think it was closer to twenty minutes when I left, passing the clock. I had sat at a table which was behind the one where a young boy has been seen on occasions holding a chain. My only 'paranormal' experience for the day was the complete lack of the presence of Time. Time cannot occur wherever my mind was all day.

I'm over at Grumpy's, it's now around six pm. He's been wandering about finding tools to sort out his CPU case problem. I'm lying on the couch all dressed in black save the white bandage strapped to my right foot. I have done something to it, just have no idea what or how. It's funny, odd, I can feel this sharp stabbing pain yet cannot pinpoint where the pain is resonating from. Whatever the injury turns out to be, the best remedy is strapping it up until it hurts no more.

And all I can do is think of Chris. He's virtually disappeared of the face of the planet. And it hurts more than the hurt I feel knowing that he doesn't love me or want to be mine. I can't talk to him, I can't see his face. I'm just haunted by the memories of time spent with him. Where are you tonight? Where are you? Is he even real?