Wednesday, August 08, 2007

STORIES OF LONGING, SUFFERING AND A SKULL FILLED WITH CIGARETTE ASH

Do you remember that time?

Yes, I remember that time.

Ahhh, wish I could walk back.

To? That time?

Yeah, to that time.

What do you remember?

I thought you remember too.

I remember the throbbing.

Throbbing?

Yes.

Noway! it was an aching.

They are same. Throbbing, I say.

You could try a thesaurus. It was an ache.

They are much too heavy.

Do you remember the time?

When?

Then.

What time?

But you said you remember!

You are such an insufferable ass.

It's a donkey.

Quit talking!

I am thinking. Do you think this is telepathy?

You are an ass.

I read in a book. I wish I could say arse like they do.

I can feel the throbbing.

Why do they call the bird robin?

Who is they?

Yeah, who says it's arse and robin.

And aching.

Yeah, why not throbbing?

If they were the Beatles then they will tell a story about Beatles.

You mean the insect?

No the story. They always have a story.

But a robin cannot.

Yes the bird cannot.

The bird cannot have a story?

No. Tell a story.

So who are they?

I don't know. My head aches now.

Aha, I told you it's an ache.

What were you aching for?

I wish I remembered.

I don't remember.

But, you do, don't you?


I remember the throbbing.

Oh yes, but you just said it was an ache.

I did?

I need a smoke. Really.

I wish I did not.

Why? I ache for one.

I can't.

I need one right now.

But the ash.

I don't want the ash.

It will colour me black.

I want the smoke, not the black ash.

It's actually gray.

I want to see the red cherry travel closer to me.

It's not red.

It's not?

It's amber.

Really.

They say so.

But they say cherries are red.

On trees?

Yeah, on trees.

Tall trees?

Cherry could be a shrub.

Stop now. Let me hear the pain.

You don't hear the pain.

You feel the pain. I can hear the scream.

Scream is not pain.

It's painful.

What is?

You are.

Where is the cigarette?

It's not here.

I wish I could find one.

It's now gray ash.

In the skull?

In the skull.

I am aching for a smoke.

The ash in the skull fills me and my temples throb.

Your head aches.

YES.

What?

IT ACHES!

I wish I could remember the time I ached.

It aches.

(Longing and suffering feed off each other while the skull overflows with gray ash)