Madness Anticipates

Conspiracy theory, vagrant technology; sleep to dream deception. Swallow a puck deadlier than nonexistence; deadlier than me. Come back for three sheets, come back for thirteen weapons, come back for ideas; countless words express silence.

Aquatic mirage, a misty film; civilization theoretically pervades liquid. We mind ours rather than discuss visible earth others speculate. I carry two pails of rice inside my right palm, three gallons of purified water inside my left palm; I wear a quad pad protective vest for flying grains, my rayon denim shorts shred fuzzy threads through each seam enclosure. A man's skull fades a spiraling snake of blondish almond strands; pearl fishnet sleeves into a v neck twist. His feet are bare; his belt braid is black Buffalo leather. Sunglasses snap onto a sleek nose brim, an abstract pink and blue goatee tickles his dimpled chin. I continue to Ebony's loft; we desire rice crepe and mandarin orange sauce.

"Did you see him?"

"I like his sunglasses; what's his name?"

"Matrix."

"Hhhmmm......interesting."

"What was he doing?"

"I saw him choose thirty-six dark green pitted melons the size of my fists."

I demonstrate alternating closed hands; both squeeze shades of periwinkle. I contemplate emotional aggression, repression, animosity, eventual damnation.

"Avocados...."

"Where is Ruby?"

"On the roof top with Lucid."

"What's he doing?"

"............getting into trouble."

"I'm not in trouble."

"That is why you are in here with me."

"What is inside the fog?"

"Now you are in trouble."

"I don't get it."

"I had to wait until they were done."

"Who?"

"The people who breathe your sigh of relief."

"How vigilant."

"You ate all the oranges."

"She ate them too."

"Who?"

"She."

"Who is she?"

"She."

".........tell them."

"She has brown curly hair and brown eyes."

"She looks like you?"

"She lives in the future."

"Uh huh."

"She does."

"Did you see her?"

"No, the man with pink and blue hair underneath his lips knows her."

"He does........"

"Of course!"

"How?"

"Avocados."

"Why did you eat all the oranges?"

"Six hundred and two."

"You ate six hundred and two mandarin oranges."

"In the future."

"I had six hundred and two mandarin oranges."

"Yes you did."

"You ate them."

"She."

"Lucid your child is doing that thing."

"Ebony your child is doing that thing."

"Amethyst which child am I?"

"The one that's in trouble."

"No that's you."

"She doesn't believe me about you know who."

"Oh..."

"Who is she Ruby?"

"Who?"

"She!"

"You know about her; why ask?"

"Amethyst who is she?"

"Who?"

"You know who."

"......."

"She!"

"They both know; this conversation does not move elsewhere."

"We shan't touch the present with words about women from the future."

"You ate six hundred and two little fruits."

"You ate six hundred and two prunes."

"When is dinner?"

"I can't believe you just asked that Ruby...."

"Amethyst I'm starving."

"We're in trouble."

"Oh."

"Did you see the guy with the beard?"

"Yeah."

"Where did he go?"

"To the water world."

"Okay........Ruby and Amethyst."

"You will gather us seven hundred mandarin oranges and seven hundred prunes this instant."

"Fucking shit."

"Shit."

We fill a cargo net with an assortment of oranges, apples, pears, grapes, chestnuts, walnuts, pumpkin seeds, and raisins; the neighbors enjoy our door bell solicitation. Shadows emerge from vapor trails, teary compositions of people walk by us; we question reality.

"We just wanted to see what you would bring back."

Meal of steamed rice, chestnut raisin pudding, and pear juice grooves our stomachs. I dream of oil slick figurines and an eskimo; Ruby bitches about yellow submarines trapped inside a sewer.

"Zen is here."

"I'm here too."

"Do you want to see him or not?"

"Not."

"Why?"

"I look irresponsible."

"He is wearing a suit."

"Can I watch him from around the corner."

".......okay but promise me you will not always be insecure."

"She knows how I feel."

"What does she look like?"

"Insecurity."

"Oh. Is she overweight?"

"Not exactly but whatever is left bothers her a great deal."

"I want to see her."

"Zen....you should knock."

"So you can hide?"

"Yes."

"I want a kiss."

"Ebony he is persistent."

"Zen she is busy in the future."

"What if I am too thin?"

"She doesn't concern of that."

"I don't concern of a few plump."

"Must you say plump."

"What if I look like a skeleton?"

"I've seen those before."

"I want a kiss."

"Ruby kiss your sushi."

"Fucking god damn periscope; I'll stick my god damn middle finger inside the eye of that little motherfucker. Nobody believes me....fucking thing is hiding in there....watching me...I just want a bath of goat's milk. After the hanging, electric chair, horse trampling, fight, suffocation, blimey coop nightmare, god damn peeking instigators."

"I want a kiss from you."

"Is that why you are dressed up?"

"I have a date."

"With who?"

"With some girl from the future."

"She's not ready yet."

"Then I will take you."

"Take me where?"

"I don't know."

"Ruby!"

"Amethyst I am slicing zombies. I will return later."

"You are beating the shit out of my pillow!"

"I miss you."

"You annihilated it's stuffing."

"I couldn't do it if it was a teddy bear."

"Why?"

"It would remind me of you; besides I'm from the future."

"What are you doing here?"

"Dreaming about zombies."

"What if we are zombies?"

"We're different; we're the good guys."

"Where did Zen go?"

Lucid bundles me inside a linen sail; my face is not surprised. She gathers a toothbrush, peppermint oil paste, shower comb, aloe vera soap, and baby shampoo; these fit inside a rope tie formulated pouch below my left elbow. I watch her smile.

"I know."

"You are asleep."

"I will act."

"Do it well."

Unwritten stacks of informal blank paper sides next to a woman devising systematic data; a proposed block of terra cotta is scripted. Ten outline descriptions of interpretation creates a series of parchment leather booklets. Three Doberman Pincers sit upon a crimson acrylic lipped bench; their collars string miniature purple beads. Inter tubes illuminate a corridor, Lucid ruffles me into a secure package; I listen to her whispers, she kisses my forehead.

"Oh! What a surprise!"

"Do you miss her?"

"I always do."

"You look like a joint."

"What's that?"

"A marijuana paper twine."

"Hhhmmmmm........."

"I want you to learn how to grow."

"A gardener?"

"Yes, a special gardener."

"What is your name?"

"Varushna."

"You eat those green fists?"

"He mashes it for me to put on my nose."

"You eat it like that?"

"...the sun hurts."

"Which one?"

"We only get one."

"What do you call her?"

"Hell."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Are you going to unwrap me?"

"Take him like this to our court."

I float over cross hatch maple, ebony, and mahogany boards. Four men lay me upon a plush carpet; two flip me over.

"I'm writing a book."

"What is the criteria?"

"Tricking people."

"Into what thought?"

"Stories and such."

"Fallacy?"

"Fanatical worry."

"What if they do that to me?"

"It will annoy you."

"You too!"

"They will be gone soon."

"Not soon enough."

Scroll ink dabs, water dripping, a woman hums, a man shaves his chops, I am a wrapped cigar.

"I'm almost done."

"I'm hungry."

"I am too; we will eat soon."

Varushna undoes my survival packet; she sets the items inside a wooden box. Sleepiness empties my belly; I drift into quietness.

".......swords????"

"Awful."

"Disturbing.....he will be so haggard."

"..swords!"

"Acne."

".......excess flesh."

"Back and chest."

"Stage."

"Firm hurts."

"Distractions all over the place."

"Crying terror."

"......what kind of swords......?"

"Grits...all about the grits."

"!!!!"

"Ugly metal."

"Dizzy............"

"Swords."

"At least she has her ring."

"Blanket."

"Lost within.......black leather seams mistaken dreams.....this kid hates church."

"I want to be there."

"Are you sure...?!!"

"Absolutely."

"..........we must begin."

"Already?"

".............quickly."

"What of the spiders?"

"She needs her."

"Give her the code."

"Swords!!"