I was sitting in a field as my brain put together the image of an emerald field with an azure skyscape while my eyes were directed at dirt and litter in large expanses stretching across the area behind several fast food restaurants and I began to think about something rather strange.A window pane rose from the ground and was opened by the beast born of greed and immaturity. It's shape was that of a beautiful woman and the lines of her body rose and fell perfectly pressing against time and space in a manner that drove me wild. She sat beside me and asked if I would very much enjoy devoting my life to pursuing gadgets, knick knacks and greenback funded respect. I told her I might and she wrapped her arms around me and whispered tangy somethings in my ear.
The path would be easy she said, I'd just have to break my mind in to the idea, push aside non material notions and assassinate beauty and build a game plan over the grave. Sounds like a good way to live I supposed, but when I reclined I saw smoke rising from tender too precious to surrender. When I turned I saw the future and knew then and there that sexy little lady greed and I wouldn't have a long term relationship.
She cried and felt empty. Poor thing, she didn't know how to cope. She should have gotten mad, but she's been around the block and went straight into the end result of pursuing that way of living. As she sobbed I noticed on the nape of her neck were the words "Made in America" pressing up through the skin. She never had a chance. She wasn't some beast like I had assumed, she was a bad idea born of an irrational and primitive mind, the same mind that runs all manner of human things.
What to do... what to do...
Weird thoughts came to me, some inappropriate for the time and the place but I let them make room in my mind and fed them attention. It was dark now, and so quiet and still I could feel the Earth's chest press against the flesh of the night. The little idea lady sat cold and sullen with swollen eyes red which told of loss and confusion. She doesn't want, doesn't wish, just sits there like a train out of track.
In the sky a plane had wrote a message with nuclear smoke: "What is it about man that makes him want to worship things he can't see instead of the ground that grows and the sun that bleeds life. Ra and Gaia have more right to our nonsensical devotion than ghosts and distortions."
I looked over at the idea and her eyes shined with new hope. She stretched out her arms and arched her back, smiling and arranging thoughts for an rebuttal to my previous stance.
She rose to her feet and and with lips so sweet laid savagely into my defense of immaterial things being a reason not to pursue her. Ideas want to be loved and held and wanted. They want to exist, and technically they do, but they want to be physical manifestations, alive in the ultra world, so badly that they'll let man change and abuse them unmercifully. She thought she had a chance to convince me to chase her and take her. She wanted to be breathed in, absorbed, or eaten.
I told her of my ways, of my thoughts, and she fell again into sorrow because she could never be a part of them. What a painful thing it must be. I thought about how to bring about happiness to the little idea's heart. Then it came to me. I stood her up and beheld her naked form. Raw greed, relentless pursuit, beautiful but irrational and empty inside. I opened her chest and she fell limp. This is a dangerous thing to do if you haven't the experience, but luckily I am an ordained minister and practicing medicine man, I was prepared. I held her up and whispered sweet somethings into her chest cavity. I filled it with altruism and then closed her back up.
The way you write is quite awesome sir. I very much enjoyed this.
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