I’m sitting here amongst the debris of another life unlived. Another collection of days never quite spent waiting for the rain to stop and to hear the far off sound of drums to call me into a day that never really comes. I am trying to haul my peat stained legs from a bog but sinking ever deeper from some kind of numbness inside then a friend comes along,telling me of the two people in my head. The speaker and the listener but I tell him quietly,shhh they are not alone.There is a small crowd in there. A small crowd all talking but making no sense,they don’t let me get a word in. I carry the weight of unspoken words heavier than any bags I take from town to town while they are in there whispering gibberish. Whispering untruths, whispering so much guilt they have their own religion, they are a cult. A cult lives in my head and they have taken all my thoughts and turned them into a chant. Ohm Ohm Ohma Ohma Ohmagod where am I now? I walk past the stagnant water along the rain shined cobbles towards the lights but don’t really know where I’m headed. I open creaking doors and enter rooms full of cinnamon scents, gold, red and green, things. Christmas is coming again and I’m so far away I can’t hear it. I think I’m still waiting for the summer.

debJ dec3 09