He sits at the computer singing Bowie, bouncing in time to the music. Coming in a little too early with the words as he mimics the sounds of a great song. Certainly not a cure for his depression but a reprieve from it. Peace.
What's the point of all this then? Eating, Drinking, Dying? Flatulence? It seems only a few people get to live, really live every moment. While the rest scratch around on the crust of this earth looking for meaning and purpose. So what am I doing? ......................
................................. He sits. Blue (sometimes Grey) eyes are glued to the computer screen. Focusing on a jig saw puzzle. Eyes darting back and forth, taking in all the pieces that make up his puzzle on the illuminated screen. Hunched forward, head moving in time to the music pouring out of the small, resonating speakers. His voice carries over the song that he sings. Melodic, beautiful. He catches each note on his breath like the ocean catching the last rays of a sunset. His manner is playful which belies the intensity escaping his lips..........................
......................... Soft, smiling serenely to himself. Gray fur cuddled irresolutely into himself. Ears twitching intermittently as they pick up the sounds floating across the room. Morrissey plays. Eric sings. Brutus tucks his nose into his tail and smiles at a joke only he knows.
Floating across the room, "I am the last of the famous, international playboys....."
The red curtain shuts out the night and the sites of the seemingly intrusive city. We are wrapped in our womb, ignoring what may await us.
... for now
......... life is perfect
What's the point of all this then? Eating, Drinking, Dying? Flatulence? It seems only a few people get to live, really live every moment. While the rest scratch around on the crust of this earth looking for meaning and purpose. So what am I doing? ......................
................................. He sits. Blue (sometimes Grey) eyes are glued to the computer screen. Focusing on a jig saw puzzle. Eyes darting back and forth, taking in all the pieces that make up his puzzle on the illuminated screen. Hunched forward, head moving in time to the music pouring out of the small, resonating speakers. His voice carries over the song that he sings. Melodic, beautiful. He catches each note on his breath like the ocean catching the last rays of a sunset. His manner is playful which belies the intensity escaping his lips..........................
......................... Soft, smiling serenely to himself. Gray fur cuddled irresolutely into himself. Ears twitching intermittently as they pick up the sounds floating across the room. Morrissey plays. Eric sings. Brutus tucks his nose into his tail and smiles at a joke only he knows.
Floating across the room, "I am the last of the famous, international playboys....."
The red curtain shuts out the night and the sites of the seemingly intrusive city. We are wrapped in our womb, ignoring what may await us.
... for now
......... life is perfect
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