Ascension Manifest by Chuck Endsley

We laugh and cry and sleep and eat and puke and shit and watch TV and make phone calls and some of us read and some of us don’t and sometimes we fuck and sometimes we fuck ourselves and then we cry some more and we drive our cars to work and back and work and back and work and back and the whole time I’m cowering in the corner of my bedroom, an infant, a child, terrified of the world and what it means to be alone in it, and every deity, real or imagined laughs at the cosmic joke, while my shell accomplishes great feats of strength and wit and earns a paycheck and respect and consumes many things and does its part to help feed the great machines whatever it is that they want; the whole time, I’m screaming end it, just end it.

Please…then the silence envelops me (it’s 4:00) sending me its loving arms of solitude (I have dialed a number) to remind me of the way things could be, but are not, and so on and so on and endless time washes over me with waves of regret and hope and a wish for a day that will see no tears shed.(I hang up.)

(I have spoken words, but have said nothing. Nothing. Nothing.Nothing.)(nothing….)

Meanwhile, The light plays tag with the leaves and wind outside, while somewhere in my home, DNA rests securely in the voids and no-man’s land of discarded toenails and lost hairs amongst the shag carpet. People’s lives criss-cross each other and intersect along points in timelines as they move in and out of each other’s immediate field of vision. Humans are across the street (I know because I can smell them.), locked away in the imagined safety of apartments; eating Taco Bell and watching their favorite T.V. show; safe from the approaching bed time and the morning of work that will surely follow.

Above them, people are fucking; joining together in desperation. They make animal noises, and pass lies to each other through quivering lips, all the while, getting further from what they really seek.I keep trying.Concentrating on one thing, and only one. Everything I have ever done, seen, and heard has prepared me for this moment, this task of monumental proportions. I make my play, and light the fuse that will bring it all to
an end.

MomThese women
They’re always there
I know because I see them every day
They ride around in their
Mazdas
Their
Hondas
These cars were new once
These women were too
Now they have short, sassy hairdos
(the women, not the cars)
and smoke really long cigarettes
and get off work early all the time,
always in danger of losing their jobs
always in danger of losing their minds
always in need
always in need of help.
sometimes they forget they’re alive
and sit through a green light
while all the normal people
construction workers
horny teenagers
lawyers
yell at them
but they don’t care
Life has long since broken their spirits
while Oprah and Tom Selleck have broken their hearts
An obligatory, fat, infantile child sits in the seat
beside her
Trying not to breathe the cigarette smoke
whining
about this and that and this and that and can I have a toy?
PLEASE?!?
It’s 2:15.
Tom Petty is crooning in his frog language about
something
on the radio.
The woman thinks big stupid thoughts
in her big stupid head.
She notices me watching her
and stares back defiantly.
I give up and look away.
As the light turns green again,
she dumps her ashes out the window
floating away on wisps of Wrigley’s Spearmint and
cheap perfume.

Copyright 2008 Chuck Endsley

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