Piece of my mind

In through the nose, a slow trickle at first, quickly escalating to a full snort of air until no more can be held,

ever so softly the lips part and then all at once a spit-filled wind so forcefully comes that the next breath immediately follows.

I sigh, try to regain composure, it’s all in my head.

The planet will soon be a doughnut: so disturbed from the inside out that it will soon begin to swallow itself until there is a hole from one side to the other.

Those living on the inside of the hole will live in darkness, and when a child lets go of their balloons, the balloons will float up and either get caught in a mass of debris that is collecting like a vortex in the middle of space, or dodge the vortex and reach the other side where another child will catch them blindly and glimpse happiness.

Mother Earth is embarrassed and she wants to hide from the haircut we’ve given her. When did we decide that the only way to solve conflicts was to send our young men and women to kill each other? That is mortifying. A field of grave stones will be swallowed as the Earth implodes like a rat on a t-shirt.

Simple acts of biking to work will seem pointless because the air will always be moving and we no longer need to hills to give us armpit-relief. In fact, most of the hills will have been destroyed as the world’s face is distorted, stretched and crumpled.

It’s a wide open road and I don’t know.

I don’t know what's next, I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know what is in my heart, I don’t know what is right, I don’t knows the answers, I don’t know the questions, I don’t know wherefore, and I don’t know why I need to know.

The one, singular truth is such:

It’s always the right time, and you’re never ready.