An Escalator and A Slide; Side to Side

Ze thing about Neverland is that you don't age; but, do get fat. I've been there. I've drank the wine and sampled the fruits many times over. All the while my stomach expanding into a soft pile of subcutaneous bloat. It must have grown while I slept. It wasn't a noticeable progression. It came more like a heavy delivery. A growing mass first noticeable when I'd sit down and feel the rolls accumulate over themselves. Like a nightlife pregnancy. Each pound carrying an equal weight in unadulterated fun. A currency exchange of sorts. It was easy to dismiss due to the proper ingested amounts of mind-altering medications. It was easy to forget because I'd stopped looking inwardly. It was easy. My own image externally validated in exchange for the purchase of flat-lined personal growth. Anaesthetically stunted in Neverland, I was living in a cloud of smoke and it was a dense smoke, but it was still gaseous and easy to perforate. Only, no one cared to wave it away. Everyone was either getting vicariously high off of the publicized fumes or they didn't give half a shit. 

I dared. I crept out. I stopped, dropped, and rolled, and felt better and bitter for my escape. I missed the wildfire like a boring marshmallow without flame. An erotic stimulation of an ego turned on and off like a light switch. My own free will choosing the latter. Holding out for as long as I can or could until the next time. Content in isolation until I went mad again. It's a cycle and I'm a rifle. The next time you see me, my eyes will be scorched black by the sun. Then winter will cool me down and I'll dance-step back inside of the electric caverns. The first thing I'll notice are the filthy gum-stained sidewalks covered with herds of naked female legs. The next will be the uncertainty. Followed by the breath of adrenaline that comes with walking into the ego's Eden. I won't tell you what happens there. I won't fool you. I won't seduce you. I'll continue on as though it would be impossible to describe.

Then there will be the pristine nature of time immemorial reflecting core energy. A pure light. Isn't that reassuring? Isn't that justifiable? Isn't this a journey with a fixed end, but no map, no distance, and no idea to what sort of design the amusement park waiting at the "end" styles itself? 

The hell of Dedalus's preacher lives on this Earth as one of many existences. He can't scare me. The piles of corpses sitting in the bottom of a third-world morgue are now. They wait subserviently and rot indifferent to some of the world's paradise. What could have been. Scarcity and lack and one or two souls from better distributed areas wave their arms in consternation like I did as a boy jumping off of the couch trying to fly. They bravely begin at the beginning. With heart's seeking a human equilibrium of advantage over scarcity. I admire you for taking on the world one frame at a time. You courageous ones, you can gently shake the world. Through my cynicism there is an untouched optimism that lives eternal and roots for the evolution of higher consciousness.

Bend and return. Waver and grow stronger. Embracing confusion is the sexiest way to live. I guess that was my point.