story teller: summer

blue bubble calamity clean


prayer. lost in the moment. inside the mind. universe.

Today I woke up realizing I didn’t know what day it was. Or maybe I simply don’t care what day it is. It’s the same monotone routine from waking up with a cough and achy back to brushing my teeth, to drinking sugar-free dark coffee. A jolt of java to start a day. It doesn’t matter. The same grind and gear have made my life overly unstimulated and robotic. But, it’s June twenty-first today. The morning seems all the same. No drive or desire. The constant predictable wheel of events.

The stench of the same day unfurling, the hell of it, leaves my head pinned to the pillow. I curl up like a child soothing my anxieties. The sobs are quite vague but destructive. You got to realize that nothing is real. The banners withering in the rain, creation in my head. Some fucked up symbolism of reflection and death. Anger is a force that drives me lately to be as still as humanly possible. But yes, the banner above the headboard screaming. “You’re alive. It’s another day. Give it a chance.” A bit of vomit hurls up to my throat.

The overlapping chatter inside my head. The buzz of the outside world. All tangled like matted hair. Within all the noise one single note of a low pitch note triumphs. One monotonous continuous note. Nothing breaks besides my soul and I cry to my pillow. Sweet, sweet tears. The sun rises above the earth. The light comes through the bare windows but my mood remains unchanged. The brightness of the day. The laziness of summer. But it’s all the same. The sinkhole only expands.

I finally retract from my bed and stretch to the sky, calling on the universe to stand beside me. The guidance of the mystical and the invisible. But the universe stretches beyond what I can comprehend and I’m reaching at least to the clouds. Fluffy white attached by strings to the blue ocean above us. The depth. The mystery. But, here I am stretching and touching the clouds in my head because that is as far as I can imagine.

I open my eyes slightly refreshed. The sun dims a little but is still bright enough to elevate my mood or at least keep it steady. Like a drunken sailor trying to keep his cool, I make my way to the hallway, pass the dog house, down the stairs, and to the open back porch. The summer breeze welcomes me with its drift.

“Welcome,” I whisper.

“Welcome,” the wind answers with a smile. An echo opposite to my gesture or lack thereof.

How does the wind smile? You ask. Well, it’s pretty simple; with its breeze. Not a gust. Not a huff. Not a sampling of a breath. But a breeze that leaves a kiss on your cheek… eyelids… lips. And yes, I do hear the word quite clearly. The wind is quite clear in saying it. “Welcome,” as it welcomes me to another day, to another sunrise, no matter how monotonous or painful. No matter all the chaos and matted hair. I am breathing. I am alive. Make whatever of the time but I still got the concept of time. Constructed to my whim. Don’t waste it. Or waste. My choice and at that moment the light shines through. All that once hurt vanishes. The winding terrains inside my broken mind.

“It doesn’t feel like summer,” I utter to no one besides the universe. Rather I dread the season because I know the days have come to become shorter, and winter is just around the corner. A gloomy temperament does not mix well with long gloomy days when the sun hides in bitter cold and grey skies. But I ravel looking up at the scribbles by the summer sun. The sonnet is new. The day is new. “Take a chance,” the sky says.

I nod, bobbing my head to the music of the universe. “Pry me open,” I shout, but the universe simply stares in return nodding in unison and mocking. But the universe does not judge. It does not know wrong from right. It only provides and subtracts without feeling or thought. Someone told me that once. Maybe it’s full of nonsense and nothings. Maybe it’s all and the consequences. I rather limper in the middle and be invisible, so I wink at the sky. It winks back. Our little secret of prospects of life.

“Breathe in,” the sky says. I listen and breathe in.

The wind hushes momentarily the noise and pushes the clouds o-ever-so slightly as if nudging them to their departure. But the wind keeps on smiling, then as well winking, getting on the secret. The simmer lifts the lids off my feet and I step into the cool grass. It has become greenish lately. Is it the earth beneath me or is it a space filled with air like a balloon? Any minute the earth can pop. But I’m okay with that. I’m okay with the fragments floating into the void, eaten up by the universe. Another act of no responsibility but a chain of reactions. One moment moving on to the next.

Maybe it’s all a figment.

“Hello,” I bow to the wet soil and smile. The dirt is welcomed, too. In between my toes, the soil, and the grass. A comb through my toes. But it all makes me sad and the smile turns to a frown. The tears come once more. All the universe cannot heal the wounds cut into the depth of my soul. The rain of tears splatters on the green blades and slithers down like morning dew. Caught in a moment of rumination and I don’t equal trying to absorb all the universal realm. The slightest connection will spark some hope; but, the road is long. I’m quite sad about having no destination and designation. I look up and come back to reality.

Fuck it’s already two in the afternoon. Where has the day gone? My lazy summer and reflection. Another moment has gone by.

© Jacob Greb — 2022

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