The one hour witch, alley cats, and my lost trumpet

in powerhousecreatives •  4 months ago 

I guess you never know what might happen after you've jumped out of the window...

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You must leave here soon, the voice said, if you want to remain sane.

I was wondering whose definition of sanity the voice was espousing, and was just about to ask it when the black jack man began hitting me up for a dime for the screaming machine, and I just knew I was going to be late for supper again.

I didn’t feel sorry about anything though, and told him so. So he let me off with a caution and told me not to do it again.

I assured him that I wouldn’t and skipped off to play with my friends in the bushes and tell them all about it, but by the time I’d found them it was just a thing that was rattling around in my head, so I just had to spit it out.

It was around here that I found myself a square peg in a round hole and desperate to come up for air.

Are you from the institute asked the girl with a sign that said: from here to heaven and back.

I must be getting old I thought and plodded onwards.

A nefarious moment later, or so it seemed, I had my foot in my mouth and was looking up to be saved.

Come down from there said my guide giving me a funny look.

I returned the funny look with my own funny look, and as we stared at each other we became amused, until we fell over laughing and gasping for air.

Well, that’s the story I’m sticking to anyway, all the way to the end.

THROUGH THE KEYHOLE

Nobody was forcing me through all the frozen nights even though the one-hour Witch was forever banging on my door to come out and play.

I looked at myself in the mirror about this to see if I could find anything lurking there to distract me or something, but after staring at my face for a fair while I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t see anything to be alarmed about, until the stupid witch upped the stakes and made me fall out of bed.

How are we doing so far, she asked, as I choked on the dust, so far below.

So-so, I said looking up at her leaning over to look at me; she gave me a grin that I took as an introduction to proceed even further.

A choir from somewhere down the tubes started to rumble the number one hit song of the day into my ear to go for it, but I didn’t know how to climb up so high and so did nothing.

Ice spread though my veins and I became cold-thinking about my predicament, so I grabbed a bottle of wine to warm myself up, and a while later I had nothing to say to anyone but the one I was going to spend the night with, and so pulled the curtains on this.

You have to let go now said the creepy-bind thief blowing in my left ear a whistle to say it was getting late, as I stared through the keyhole of all I could perceive.

Half an hour later I was still looking around to see what had spoken in my ear so close I couldn’t see it, but it was real, I swear.

I swore a lot in those days; chicks digged it, and I didn’t mind that at all.

Anyway, eventually the common gates came to close on me in the universal truth, and so with no time left to spare I jumped on the night train and let it take me far away.

PROGRESS OF SORTS

Death, as an alley full of cats, that creeps up on you one day and screams in your ear, began knocking on my door to be let in.

I was hiding in the cupboard at the time and didn’t hear a thing for five minutes straight.

I was writing poems again and I didn’t care to be disturbed, for there was music coming through the wall and I was hopelessly in love with another it, that death-love that I couldn’t hear anymore in anything what was being said until it didn’t matter to me for anything, and that’s when I wrote my message on a wall where a blind man was taking notes on my progress.

Come home now, said the message ringing in my ears.

Chewing like mad, I ran as fast as I could towards the exit, and I suppose that’s a progress of sorts, but no way could I outrun the alley cats knocking at my door and waiting for me to let them in.

I wish I had my trumpet, I thought as I tripped up once again diving into the future.

Well there’s another concept that bites the dust to leave me travelling along the lonesome road of all alone.

Image from Pixabay

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