08012011

On the edge of a world.

When a man is the happiest he can be is the moment when he. Now. It is that moment. A moment of no coherent thoughts. They do not follow a line. Just the feeling of: jumping off the edge. Shouting. Your name. Of the names of others. Lives of others.Throwing punches in the air with open fists and bouncing around in the room from wall to wall without ever stopping. But when you stop, you can feel it.

The feeling. It's almost as concrete as ground under your feet. It's not a wind blowing melodies into your grave face. No. What it is, is much, much more better than that. The feeling is a wind that picks you off the hard ground, carries you around for miles and miles and settles you down on a cliff.

The sun setting and the view is orange. With hints of yellow, red and marrow. Mainly orange though. You can see your world from the edge of this cliff. It could be your humanity. The world or the cliff? Can you jump off the edge of this cliff and will you ever land - hit the ground with immense force that shatters your bones into particles the size of sand beads. You can never imagine how high you are. How high and mighty the cliff is. The angels could be watching people down from this cliff as if people were only microscopic figures. Or figureless. The wind is still blowing but it's blowing towards your back, not your face. And it's a gentle breeze. You lift your chin up.

Up is where you want to go, again. Just because of this feeling. You want to rise straight up in the air like a sky rocket with fire and flames coming out from the bottoms of your shoes. You aren't wearing any shoes though. Are you actually wearing any clothes? Probably not. Because you don't care because you have the feeling. The best feeling a man can feel.

.in your room doing nothing but staring at flickering screens.