Gone (part two)

[collisionwork]

Yup, turned out that thirteen pages of play was just too much for an LJ post.

So here's the rest of my play.

Hope you enjoy it.

J:         (completely and successfully hiding whatever emotion she feels) Well.  Tell me of the singeing, then, o mistress miribel snivastic querty?  We drevented folget statewide sinescreed.  If in case of spartunistic happenstance, feld quotisa snivelets.  Soon sumewhailed sumaricians trill scar sellnever grynphont.

 

S:         Oh . . . bell the drattest tonnage into lirst stunnaging aprestant limninals.  Sell me then ever into lytines’ draft frontaging onto lanc du lacicioness.  By estubared victimuels, if child searing lud franciscon, then a prince of tea boils the frenchness.  Hard luck.  Piecemeal.  Bend liminal.

 

J:         Bend laminal.  No not nor never nil.  Worth more than a try.  Fix a peg to the stay, and stay, and stay, and stay.  No rest but full stop and stay.  It’s not love within whalebone, but light, and the light from a bush makes the grass green.

 

S:         Then shadow my heart and learn to radar.

 

J:         Beep beep the landfill.  Burnt grandfather springs on carts, father is time, mother is land.  Sister is ease, brother is vermin.  The rest is noise and mystery.  Wish I made the wills wonder more.  Shake the jerichonan fix of state.  By sheer numbers alone the whole damn thing improves.  I believe in the press of the collective.  Good shall come of it.  Please.  Please.  Please.  I know.  I feel.  Faith.  All I had and have, now the kin micks speaks from elsewhere.  All . . .

 

S:         Gone?

 

J:         Gone.

 

W leans in from the side, checking on them.  They do not notice.  Then he leans back out.

 

S:         Kidding?  Faith’s a fill.  Cup and pea game to barney a clem.  Bilk.  Shill.  Waiver.  Press forward and please the masses.  No good no there.  Trynfail.

 

J:         Fail and it’s still worth all the rest.  Stand around for those brief moments of meaning.  Color flows off a hard place into the emptiest of holes in a self.  The only importants.  No volume without the streaming.

 

S:         The creek sags.  An argument to no point.  The creation flies out the window in the face of the practical.  How many care to make it worthwhile.  Commerce commence.  Lies, lies, and a piela cash.  Christ, it all turns into a buncha crybabies.

 

J:         No for the entire.  Don’t blame the necessary need for an uneccesary want.  Greed . . . in the end . . . tumbles backward and is forgot.  Power is not what it seems.

 

S:         The bunk says otherwise.  Can you please a winkle of slumber?  Watch as the witholding stretches as far as my master’s name.  All is subjectunctive.  I fear, well, feel that truth switches heights for no cause but the cream.  And all it does is spoil.

 

J:         Turn yourself in, then.  Be it not to say if trust can move the liar.  No place.  No will but the won’t.

 

S:         Life’s old song and dance.  Chacha the most forward to the greatest peak.  A contest of following steps, not inventing form.  Tell that to your grind of dentamel.  Line falls furthest within press of gatecrash.  Get lost, mealymouths.  Is it not alla them within that shell?  Don’t no truly the skein plays – a world of bozak.

 

J:         Crush.

 

S:         Or pill the form.

 

J:         The tablet is not the law.  Don’t confuse the beast with the priest.  Royal billfolds end with filling boldness.  I’ve longed for ten capsules within the hang of eternity, may rain a still supreme.

 

S:         And the justice is blind.  Fresh veal for the mixmaster.  Twelve eons a drop of tint for symplathy.  Leave off a little.  Can’t stand all the useless chatter.  No place for peace.  Dance this whole damn thing off the branch.

 

J:         I can place the peace myself.  Don’t cry for borrowed trouble.  Hell in trust and a belief in nothingness.  Whine place this power hence?  Craydoh consolence.  Many many taken.  The last is lost, but full stops together ellipsize the ultimate.

 

S:         Upzarizen?  All activity inutiles itself in the face of the finale.  Saymoh, say no more.  Drop it all.

J:         And breathe in the vitay.  Is this not the way?  Yes, drop.  Drop it all.  All the widget.  All the placefilled.  All the language.  All the calcified.  All the crum.  All the dram.  Leave.  Going.  Going.  A land des-cert of chain and gag.  A world of painum et circuitses.  A universe of shares cropped and oceanic despoiled.  Trust at least to fill the forsake.  Out the lines from a personal hole to a universe truth.  Don’t hold to the monster idea.  Sentripple your spirit off the whole game.  Stop before starting over.  And if it’s hard, then hold and look, and look and fill, and fill and trust.  And a haunt.  You not sprite forward without a certain exercise, that keels the land away and ships the stars.  Dance this jib.  Learn a box step.  A curtain of placenames revoked.  Step outside to clear all this pointless air.  It may seem a stupid sideline, but at best it is what we have, and may hold, and may continute us.  All this that end.  How many words to say it, how many words to waste?  The refuse will remove, the removed will re-fuse.  A spark ignite – all kinship solders on in the ark afloat in this act of creation.  Trustwipe a no mean line primordial.  Loose cannons extant.  Trell a climb out the pit, and therein comes the price to pay.  Toll this is for all that beauty.  I don’t want to fear the fare.  Apple jelly com-bine the virtue from the sin.  A bookstart of rules, yes, fine and good but life likes its own.  We take what we need.  Don’t argue.  We want what we’re given.  Don’t own.  Twelves states of thought.  Frynd to swiftness of purpose.  I smile outwards, extending freeform to an infinite of choice.  Embrace and enrapt.  A meteor fallen.  Forgot.  Spill and flush.  Brush this horizontal across all line of sight.  Landscape all your best in the space between frames.  My language became not that of my home.  We came to a land anew – blessèd and brill.  A piece unkempt intilled.  Breece nil a fifth.  I land no place.  Tree myself untie.  Wait and want, perhaps.  Need never.  I’ve lost but naught of nutrience.  And whyforever naught?  Oh, Lord in this chill, blaine a quest all the perfect.  Listing.  All columned.  Whip span a bridge must stand.  Milkfree and fister try.  My offspring lack not to haunt.  All are a connection to me.  Do I regret?  Spill, no.  Drop, no, no, no.  I float on the myth.  I choose a path of the foolish luneness.  And choice fills to swamp reason.  A line of trust.  Helps in the time.  Something to crutch the hardships.  Borrow some ink as necessary.  What I want?  All looms.  Brows knitted.  A wefted layover the cover of sky.  A list of books, some of use, some pointless.  Du tonnère.  A thrust and gasp, awe, no place within that system.  Apply only what counts.  Crafty.  I tried all the others to find mine own, and of my owning came piece.  Of a time or two.  Or three.  More, I sure, down the passage of skirts.  All that runs.  And all I held and was helden myself.  Sum.  Within a totality of flow, from horizon to singular.  My choice is choice, a sine of latent possibilities.  Place trust.  Live now.  Move on.  Is this naught but shilled confidence?  If so, I can afford the trick for the peace.  At the ends, peace.  At the final, a feel of finale.  If naught then nil, but if so then ready.  Something is bigger, we all agree.  Fine.  Not strained to thin, but volume remained on multiple possible pathways.  Each gully its own route.  Where-ever it comes, then ready.  I’ve lived all I could, most I wanted, some I’ve endured, few I’ve regretted.  At the ends, me.  We go as we come, but the travel gives the ability to face the exit.  A whined.  No call.  No gasp.  No creep.  All a hold.  All a buss.  All a wink.  Days will go.  Had a share.  There are angels, of one kind or another.  If not, no care.  Choose your own end.  Power in having what you choose as your real.  No object, so why not subject yourself?  Then complaint fadeaway.  Nil for nil.  Accept.  Been a semble from point of pool.  Accept.  Shall forward till the last of light.  Accept.  On all between a fight despond.  The sides multituded the consplits.  At the ends, equal.  From cataract to loam.  Sameness, us.  Then peace in the person.  All you have.  Something stays.  Make it good.  If the word no good, then make good.  Bless.  Spend and expend.  Do.  Cold is not, but just a lack.  Make heat.  Defy the possible.  Burn.  If we as ash anyway, worth it create.  Phoenix final, perhaps, if not then harmless.  I choose.  I power.  I belief.

 

Pause.

 

S:         Hum.  Quiet a hum.  A convertshiun eshtoppel.  Wherewithal quite, dear.  No, no, I compreese, I see.  and tetruelike, see the form, if unneed the spirit.  Spill and clean up.  Appreciate.  But neither.  All this just a lack anyway.  Any possibility of hit left behind with all miss.  Would be nice.

 

J:         Gone?

 

S:         Gone.

 

J:         Then what?  Do you connect?  A last?  A long?  All what?  Convaynance you?

 

S:         Heard the shout, needn’t the argument.

 

J:         Think a drammel do you god.  A lift.

 

S:         Not to bout place pads under souls.  Quite to the point negrate.  If did be, than an insult from one such.  If so be, then respect through what am.  If then be, all out in the wash, huh say?  Other, to the ends all be.

 

J:         Then to the ends with you, and dam the lame-erred.  If so you chalk, so shall you weep.  Hold as youse and be prepared, sister, as the rest will not always stand for your honorifics.

 

S:         Then throw away my medals and let me stand on conviction alone.  Won’t show what won’t show.  No benefice so how to gain anything for just myself.  Would like there to be.  Would love there to be.  Even in the midst, the possibility of better.  Wouldn’t say no.  But won’t say yes for hope only.  Maybe seems without hurt, but leads to fantasticals ultimate as second sight.  Choose reality-based waffle towards stasis over action-oriented certitude towards destruct.  I do love, I do care, and so and enough to enact only and alonely in miniways miniself as in own beliefs.  Not a despairance to not have, a strength in making more than do with what one does have.  Leave behind a triad of mythologies for a trio of handholding carpentry and attitudinal posture.  Backbone up.  And so I stand on my own two feet.  Had my share, too, yes, but will fight for everyone more I can get.  And that could be, and that so, and that shall, and that is.  No matter what.  The worst is thought, I know, but the best never care.  So find myself in defining by the not, not the could be.  Can’t believe the believes, but won’t tread on their tome if they stay off my flag.  See a positive in open arms and indiscriminate embraces, I see it in judicious friendships and careful examinations.  This how we be.  See how it are.  I work and complain and fight and seem perhaps like a waste but I alive.  All is pain but pain better than numb.  So, yes, I choose.  And I choose for me, and with hope for all through me.  I do the job and thus keep the pattern forwart.  No bombshells but the real world, no demolished but the careful planned.  See a limit in my closure, I see a wonder in the smaller of it all.  This infinity of termini.  This multiplicity of singular.  I trill my tune to no choir but my own blood, flow one as another, but all together in spacial protrusion.  From in this, all.  Perhaps all that underlying as ghost connectors a load of ferrisness, ox ideas, but what I have then be the superior -- cables as threads of sinews and muscle and fat and meat.  I am as you and he and she and they and the others by being human, just being human.  And that is good enough.  More than enough.  I will not feel blessed, I will feel blissed, and thus own my own pleasure, not give the power unto forever changing cumulins.  By rejecting the ocean I stand upon the mountain.  Alone, perhaps, but on my own two feet.  So I can, so I do, so I will.  The sound comes in and I just be within.  Wince if you like, but it is what matters to make a foreward for all of us, and some are the tramping that carries the indolent.  Progress makes prefects.  I not to lord but to govern fair.  Overrule as standard but all works out in the backroom.  Below stairs.  At a home of representation, your abstraction hangs out front.  So what more need?  No need ever.  My self ish necessary enow.  Worn and begorra, and sure, but each tear earned its place.  Tell the unmaimed, the uncreased, the starters your tale if you like, but in the end those who make their own theirselves will have the easier.  Those who lessen the desire for the raising.  Did I?  Only a bit.  Did I?  Only too little too late.  But saw the correct, even if too late to benefice.  These legandcies a gold watched service after the wrong kind of devotion.  If I choose seeming crust, only to keep unexpected at bay.  With lack of wonder at the stupidity and the unnatural, I can then wonder at the beautiful and natural when it is worth the correct of awesome.  Not assume it’s all a miracle.  Won’t be a catalogued of any old lady clichés so as to be my own labelness.  A trick of my own.  A mix of the one with the other.  Don’t put me in that there so now-now.  Long past half one way, not nearly there by yours.  Hold myself to the intent, not the letter.  Sit up straight, me.  Eyes clear, I.  Face forward, myself.  I’ve filled entires of span with the bitching but wouldn’t relieve to relive one moment.  I’ve pointed for segments of span at the botching but wouldn’t drop that finger for a moment more in the run.  Am and sin be damned.  Closed edition.  Can and a sealant.  Texture more than vision.  A wholeness based upon that.  Can you get it?  Too much focus for you, one way or the other, results in the monotony of scrutiny.  My limits conspire happily to make illimited.  Hold you to that.  Be trailed by the turple of synchsation.  Let the freedom in,  The filling of un-ness.  Harp on drop?  Well, then rise, if liked and would seem so, bittyness?  Rise in lack of what isn’t needed.  Rise in lack of what is pleasurably harmful.  Rise in discover of lack of trust.  Rise in ability to trust anyway when right.  No manual, so automatically throw in to this.  Like the smell, so I’ll wear it like perfume.  Like armor.  Like ammonia.  The lights fail, and I curse, but not for the failure itself but for the little time I had in the brightness.  Calls made are no longer returned.  Nothing keeps running on time.  Others avert eyes.  The deliveries pile up out front.  Ashes of all the lines of commute few and between breakaging elementally.  My plainness suits except when it doesn’t, heh?  I’ll have this out.  Love’s a crock, but I loved.  Friendship’s merely for convienience but I inconvieniently befriended.  Honor’s a code to keep you in your place but I was honorable.  Artifice does not mean inferiority.  We would be naught but something brutish were it not for our fakeness.  The ability to pretend we are better than we are allows us to be what we pretend we are.  Hard work, attempted by few, so very few, but worth it all the same.  I did little, but any little is a share herein.  I be as solid in my solid.  Straight in my backline.  Hard on the feet but get the respect if not the attention.  Selfness.  Not specific for all, sure, I’ll give.  Your beliefs as shared, though I may focus on the horrors they done did, I must admit, in and at the ends, have sure, through fear perhaps but that’s better than naught, done more for improvelence.  One way.  One way to overcome the countintute that we make ways to interests not of self-ourselves.  That a folly takes us apart.  So not just accept, but fight.  Even if oppose comfort, then fight.  Though you have ease and fight brings dis-ease you don’t need, then fight.  Acceptance brings a comfy chair and fine food in your prison, fighting brings the hard cot under a free sky.  Choose your back or your landscape.  The simpleness of practicals.  Turn off those lights.  Close the barn door.  Wash your face and hands.  See, see.  If it were a snake it’d bit ya.  You will find a universe in the constituents.  Turn your wonder outward and it scatter, turn around and in and it focus.  And that is the solution in the end.  Just that dissolve.  No more.  No less.  At the end, the end.  We are, and what we aren’t is just nothing.  Nothing.  And not a nothing of despair for lack, but for hope of filling.  Nothing.  The good.  The best.  Nothing. 

 

She looks over at J, who has been drifting away into what at first seemed to be sleep, but now seems to be more final.  A beat or two as S registers this.

 

Then, with a sigh and a shrug, she gets up and begins moving away, slowly as W enters to clear the table.  With an annoyed sidelong glance at S, he shakes J slightly, then realizes she is no more.  Stunned, he quickly and clumsily checks her pulse, then looks to S, who has paused, watching his futile movements.

 

S:         Gone.

 

And S walks away, slowly, as W looks between her and the body of J, stunned, the autumn light fading away into black.

 

END

 

 

1990-2005

IWH