In the city there was a dark air that was warm. It was as warm as it was humid and sticky.
In that air I sensed a pressure mounting. I knew in the epicenter of my conscience that the world was set to collapse back down into the ground. There would be a huge tear in the street below me and it was all to cave in abruptly. That was the point.
I waited and waited and waited some more.
I had an issue; no matter how long I waned and wait, the fissure was not to appear.
I knew then, peering from the inner entrails of my window into the bustling outer word, that there would never be a crack in the earth as I had hoped. The idea of the cleft had merely been a product of the probability fuelled system of expectation located in some function of my own frontal cortex.
An upset influx was the first to appear. Perhaps I wanted to be important enough for people to care about me caving in. Apparently that was not the case.
I sat with the sensation. Day and night I spent alone, making sense of the disappointment. The issue was that this disappointment was impossible for me to disentangle. Whenever I thought I had him, he disappeared again to hide behind one of the many nooks and crannies that exist beneath my consciousness.
In a week, the disappointment had fully decomposed. From the dirt of discontent both flowers and fruit were borne.
It was then that I knew the content of the disappointment. The whole point, the thing that I still know now, is that I am actually destined to become somewhat peripheral. In other words, no cracks in the earth would care to absorb me. There would simply not be enough publicity for any crack in the earth to have a real reason to swallow me up.
“There is one centre of the universe and it is not me,” despaired the narcissist in my bones.
As I sat cross legged on my super king accepting my fate, whatever I had been waiting for came to be.
It was true that I had been wrong about the crack that was to cave into the earth. Instead of a crack it was actually a layer of dirt, a “tar” as they like to call it. The liquorice mass proceeded to push itself into my flat through the infracts of my badly shut window.
I observed as the tar began to bubble, to bulge into amorphous shapes that trickled down my radiator. There was no mistaking this, it was clearly a soft sort of tar. They had given us information about the tar on the news. The dangerous thing about the tar was that it turned soft from being hard whenever it wished to do so, therefore allowing it to worm into any building or institution to scare whomever it pleased, whenever it pleased. On the news they had said that the tar had a mind of its own and emphasised that there was no stopping the tar.
I ran away from it. First bound in one on land and then in one in air. The land portion of my journey was pretty normal. Or normal expect for the fact that I was very afraid. In the car, I clenched my belongings tightly into my lap with bloodless fingers. Not a breath was to be taken before I was safe.
In the one bound in air I was surprised to notice that some things still remained beautiful. What I mean is that there were things other than the tar up here, things that got my attention away from it and onto my status as a human being flying over the planet. There was a particularly punchy pricklingly pink sunset. I witnessed not for the first or for the last time as the day slipped away into eve. But even then, just as I was off guard to the monster menace, a light of malicious blue showed itself. The azure was reflected off the top of one of the flatlined clouds, peeking at me from far off in the horizon.
In psychedelic parallel, the emergency lights inside the airplane began to blink. I looked around and noticed myself to be the only one watching them because everyone else was still focusing on the sunset.
There were too many things, too much energy. I felt a panic, but there was nothing I could have done to stop it.
When the silent attack of the tar was over, the outside was dark and the lights inside the plane were no longer blinking. The situation had normalised, that was for sure. But this was not reality. I was living in a day in which I was never supposed to live. This was not reality and would not be reality for quite a time in the foreseeable future.
WAST WRTNG 