The back door

I guess this one is all about the back door...

And now let me tell you about the out of season witch who came in through the back door of hell and scrammed me with her claws all down my face and elsewhere for want of anything better to do.

Well, I was out of sorts, I can tell you, and so began moving backwards out of harm’s way.

This of course led nowhere as usual, and so I determined to turn the tables around, to make more room for what I can only suppose was an exception to the rule that comes out of nowhere to get you and wrestle you into submission.

You can fight it of course, or go with the flow, but either way doesn’t really matter in the end, for all things go back to the one to be diverted somewhere else, until love comes to say: follow me and I’ll lead you out of it, and home; where home was all along.

So I said: I’ll meet you in the sundown on the ninth then, and don’t be late or we’ll miss all the heavenly glory that’ll sprout, just for us.

But wouldn’t you know it, some damn fool pressed the button for a stampede, just as I was setting out to go around to there; another sale on to run for the trinkets was the word; but I’d had enough of trinkets and so faced about and found the wind in my face, it came from somewhere, but I had no idea where; maybe some strip joint or another fashion parade where the lonely smile with all their teeth until their teeth fall out, and then pray for heaven.

It was around here that I remembered that I had a date, but I was beginning to lose my mind with all the confusion for normal these days pressing to invade me.

Is this the way to return home, asked a little man from the toadstool bus-stop I was passing just then on my way to my date.

Anyway, like I said, I was losing my mind as I pressed ahead into it all, and then bus number 37 came along to take me away.

Hello, said the conductor.

Hello back, I said, looking at her eye-lids fluttering.

Honey, have you got any money, said the conductor, holding out her hand.

No, but I’ve got a bottle of wine we can share later, I said. Concealed within this was some kind of sense, a thread leading somewhere, but I couldn’t find where it was going, and I had no money, so I escaped out the back door.

Come back, said the conductor; but no one ever came back from the back door when the bus had gone past.

Further more to this, and not to be recycled with anything else until suffering from exposure, an old message from the grave came along to say nothing is wrong and all is right.

Somewhere up in the big sky I just knew that the revolution was passing out joints to all and sundry by now, so I lay back a bit on that big pillow and took a hit: nice.

Later, as I was suffering from exposure, I began to vibrate where the air was pure, and knew quite a lot of things that were on my mind, and knowing them, let them go.

Well, that’s what I told myself anyway; but nothing is ever let go of, forever.

So I broke out the wine and invited a friend, and put the music on.

But the fear was coming through the back door with huge gulps of air straight at me until I couldn’t put my hat on or find my gloves anywhere to escape out of my fear.

Now, I’m not a great believer in circumstance, but when déjà vu comes through the back door offering roses, I’ve just got to think: what the hell?

Well, there came a knocking on the back door and I just knew I had to answer it.

Hello, I said, as I opened the door to stare down my own death as usual, that came at me as it always does to hang on my tower.

Hello, said death, can I come in?

My love came for me then to give me a good slap round the face; and so I moved on until I was quite broken into two pieces, one going this way and one going that.

Around about five steps later I became king in the dust of where I was and so took the next rung of the ladder upwards.

Image from Pixabay