It could have been anybody

It could have been anyone,
but it was me.

Why was it me, and not somebody else?
It was her, and not another.
It was him, and he was the one chosen.

And they all leave behind trails like the burning paths of stars
Blazing streams of light all across the universe, some brighter than others
Starting where someone else left off.
Countless bands, yet each one individual
Embossed by the blackness all around, while others fade away
Faint retrospections that are almost lost, adding gray to the blackness
In ever darker shades, colorless centipedes.

Some have with them fire, and with victorious sparks
Light into great blue flames the struggling light gray shapes, in the dawn of their time
Their time, which has an end
An end in the endlessness of eternity.

So all I can do is cut out a door right in the middle of the floor
Because I refuse to look up and see the sky.

I Will Time Travel

I only wish I had a better memory...

Everything just became too monotonous, even with the light glittering on the surface of the water, casting thousands of facets across the pool deck like shattered glass.

So I went out for a bike ride.

All was quiet and seemed to sleep in the sweeping hand of the warm breeze that traveled all the way from the beach, and I can smell the faintest smell of the ocean waves, in the midst of all the jumbled pollutions and crashing smoke of smokestacks and exhaust pipes.

Then I saw.

On the side of the road there was a small black rag, that was not a rag, but a tangled mess of feathers twisted into a grotesque shape like the claws of death. Little threads of raw life all dried up seeping through shining fibers that had lost their sheen, turned into dull blackness, like strings of tar forgotten on the roadside.

So it goes.

And I rode on, into a large expanse of concrete, dotted at intervals down the center with trees covered in purple blossoms, standing out boldly against the dark grayness and stark white lines. A silver car was parked lazily in the shade of a purple tree, with sunlight shining off its streamlined hide. The shiny metal surface was being whisked to even greater heights of polished perfection by a rainbow colored duster, its wispy hairs blown sweeping gently across the Civic as the small lady in the purple shirt that matched the trees dusted busily. With her trimly cut black dress pants and pointy shoes, she moved quickly, half of her face hidden in a pair of expansive brown sunglasses that perched on her nose. What she was doing, no one knows.

Will no one remember?

I will time travel.

Now I am gone, and her existence still is, and was, and will be until it is gone. So will the sorry little rag of feathers by the side of life's unknown road, and the policeman parked across the lot, eating a donut.

Released

And finally, that phase which may henceforth be referred to as "the experiment" has finally reached its termination point.

No more are my thoughts confined to a vague and slightly dead perspective using the third person. No longer will the meaning be buried so thickly in shrouds of misty words, that all the reader can make of it is a garbled mass of vocabulary.