dripping down the back of my eyes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
losing my muse..

Submitted: April 28, 2011

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Submitted: April 28, 2011

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I was asleep when i first felt the need to wake up. opening my eye's i was forced to swallow what at the time i must of thought was my pupils,slippy dots of slimy mishaps.

Thinking back now i knew they were really just ideas mimicking a circular puddle of upside down translations.. There they were my pupils in the place they should of been,i checked them twice to be sure.. so that left me with the unanswered question of what slipped down the back of my eyes without any consent??!

-a rude awakening-

I was definitely awake now.. in fact i could not for the life of me blink! a comfortable stare. Focusing now i made out my line of sight and realized i could never turn away without a series of sequenced flash card type images... Of course without my trance like state i would of already tapped into the corresponding *Lock Out Code*..

I had my brain..it was all mine! but how was i to snap this vice like grip my vision entranced itself into so rudely? The only hope i have is to remember the secret...that i was starring at!

Focusing i slid round back and seen as clear as day the image of a mirror reflecting back to me one of the treasures i sought.. a perfect line of eyelashes.. I counted them all and made a mental note -stored- and -risk assessed- how could i stroke my optic nerve with mental awareness?

THERE!... there it is still dripping away right down the back.. i was losing something important...but unknown.

Thinking hard now i was about the corner of my eye, although there was not a tic or a twitch... i thought again bout the number of lashes on the lash line. and realizing,even though they had been counted,The number was wrong!

-19- ONE MISSING! someone had stolen a single lash...a revelation.

my left eye came into the corner like a jenga piece had been removed,eying the corner i found the bridge of my nose

-utterly impossible-

there crossing the bridge like it was the norm,was goats dressed in gruff names under the suspicion of billy's. obviously completely bonkers! why would they be crossing with monstrous thudding four legged clumsiness? the quickest way to go undetected would be to \"sledge\"

-lashes- gruff billy boots-

i had found two of the secret stash codes of the left ee-y.. looking quick with a dart over the written down combinations,i now knew.

-three a piece- was a must! sludge raining down like a river of mushy peas, as quick as i was on the spy,i seen it my MUSE,grasping all 6 image decoders with both sharp taloned,fisty,thievery.

?? -MY MUSE- ??

I now felt distrust towards myself. but a sense of understanding overwhelmed me.. lashed gruff billy boots..and the miss-education of a muse in the form of a goblin with sticky fingers... facts were stepping out into the shiny loopholes of discovered secrets.

-blinking- once-twice-

i slipped my image pools over the rest of the mirror.. there i seen it.. the reverse side of the front,the inside of the reflection.... wonderful!...a victory!

two more mental gaps! my muse was not lost...not found... it was just there always, the sheer thought of its existence,slid it behind a wooden splintered wall.. out came my last square of sandpaper.

beady little eyes gazed from out of a wormhole made by a thirsty termite big enough to cook you a Sunday dinner,without breaking into a sweat. at this point it became apparent the muse did not like to conjure ideas for me at a whim,which i found irritating, as the muse was only me donning a glaze of imagination. I knew then then that it had been him dripping on a skid down the back, nicking off with the 5 other notes needed to know.

in a second i could see as if from a birds eye view but of course with the talk of an out of body experience. looking now i seen the dripping,even sifted through it with my pretend made up hands the muse... he did have spikes.... and he did have goblin like tendencies and the look of a crazed demented escape-ee.

would i invite him in? how would i smile at him if he knocked on my front door?... as a stranger? crooked? cockeyed? or crying out his name as instant recollection simmers between my teeth? there was only one thing possible to do to put right the back eye drips of a naughty notion!

down the back and reverse the wicked wanderings.... how could i come up with my ideas....when its my idea i was in need of tripping up with four layers of trickery.

thats when i open the cupboard door unhinging a dusty memory.

-poof-

this here was his place, where he would spend his time head-butting the edge of the inside thinking of crazy insults to shout down the street to some hazy distant bus-stop dweller that you think you might know from a distance,only to get a closer view and have it dawned on you its just a tourist!

muse! he had spent all his time shaking up ideas,all his life confined to a dark box of thought for you to use with no need to sit and ponder.. selfishly the sub-conscious never noticed,that these things do not just happen!

with the lock out code now lined up and ready to put to use,it all of a sudden wisps into a flake.... cracks... then shoving up a whole new detractive space in my frontal lobe.. i welcome myself in, and the spikes don't seem as sharp, the demented crazy fades into a paler shade of red..

i like it now and it likes me...

so shut your rip


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