Silky waves by Steven Tyler (reading women txt) 📕

The dark gloomy glow of the bar made me feel like I hadn’t….. Hadn’t felt like
myself in a few years. Every time I stepped out of my body and looked at what I
was from the outsider’s point of view I thought about suicide. I didn’t like
what I saw, but didn’t have any motivation to change it. What would be the use
of it anyway? All I would be doing is changing what I am, or what I was. I’ve
never really known what I was or who I was. I just figured you’d figure all that
stuff out later in life, but I was already fifty eight with no life but the bar
life.
The bartender pointed out a massive sky scraper of a man. Not only was he heavy
he was tall. He had eyes that sank into his face,
it looked like he just had dark black holes for eyes. His arms were bigger than
my weak old thighs and his chest was bigger than my ex-wife’s. Only his were
pure muscle.
When the bartender pointed at him he stood up and stared me down. I didn’t take
my eyes off him. I was a little intoxicated and wasn’t about to make any smart
decisions.

He started walking over. A million things were racing through my mind, should
I stand up to this monster of a man or should I run like hell was the main
question in my mind.
He walked up and got about two inches away form my face and then a voice that
sounded like thunder came out of his mouth. “You must
leave and now do it quickly and quietly and no one gets hurt. Or you can
continue to sit there and then have your face pounded in like a butcher pounding
his meat.
“Now when you say pounding his meat what are you referring to?” I asked him.
“Leave now or suffer the consequences,” he said.
I slowly reached in my pocket for my matches.
He grabbed me by the neck and shoved me off my stool, from all the drinks I
fell to the ground. I grabbed a bottle and put all the whiskey in my mouth and
took out the matches. My mouth was so full I felt like my cheeks were going to
burst. I spit
all the drink on him, he was trenched. I quickly lit a match and threw it on
him. His face and hair caught fire, he started running toward me for reasons
unknown. I looked at the bottle in my hand and hit him straight in the face
with it. He quickly fell to the ground and was out cold. I walked out.
The night was dead outside. The city was dim and lonely, I walked on to my
apartment. I opened my apartment door to find it a mess with all the furniture
tossed around the room and empty wine bottles all over the ground. Rough night
last night I thought to myself. I stepped over all the trash and found a couch
cushion. I sat down lit a cigarette, popped opened the whiskey, took a big hit,
and lied there trying to find my name in the ceiling. What a night I thought to
myself, I fell fast asleep.
I was dreaming that I am a bird,in the colour of the sky, as big as no cage can
contain it,swimming in a throne of clear white silky clouds. Drops of water
gently touch his face before they fall down and change into rotten mud,inhabited
by thousands of dirty creatures that eat the rubbish and the remainants of some
birds that were decieved by the solid surface of the mud and thought that it is
a great land,without cages,without bars.
I was dreaming that I am a bird, moving his wings that expand endlessly. Air
moves around him in silky waves that evokes nice feelings-air that is not full
of bombs` smoke.This air does not arrest our smells nor carries them to the
police`s dogs that eat blood and flesh.
I was dreaming untill my boss,with big eyes , spoke:"This dirty dream spreads
as an epidimic disease".
His voice became like the voice o a snake:"We must kill this dirty dream".

Then, I met him in a metalic building that is too high for our eyes to see.

Our walking brought us to the front of a door. We reached the door.
It was a silver door holding characters of some cryptic code and I felt that
things around us were happening at a faster pace. I felt nauseous as if swung too
fast on a merry-go-round.
"This is the final door," my boss said. His voice was irrevocable and a little
scary to me. He waved his hand in front of the silver door and it slowly opened
letting incredibly tense light . The light flooded around me as if I was
standing in the wave of an ocean of luminescence. The light struck at my eyes
and I had to shield them .

I saw myself sitting in front of my large screen television. The room behind the
silver door was my living room; my spacious living room in my mansion. My boss
and I were standing directly behind this phantom of myself. I could see from
the window the lake. My blonde wife with highlights in her hair was busy in the
kitchen letting her perfect body reveal in tight fitting clothes.
"This is the life you know. It is the life you have always known. You are
watching the television .You drink your coffee .In order
to enjoy these luxuries others must be exploited. Remember reality is only a
joke…that is if you can ever truly determine what the punch line is! Stop
making it a crusade. All crusades end in failure!"

Before I could say a word, the lights went out and I hurried away by unknown

hands through another door. When the lights came up, I was sitting on my couch
with the remote control in my hand. The two events were happening on the TV
screen. The protestors pushing against the thin line of cops couldn't realize
they
were pushing against the very system that gives them the means to resist it.
I thought of how hopeless their actions were and tears filled my eyes. Then I
started to laugh and suddenly I was insane with laughter. I was holding my sides
and rolling on the floor. My wife didn't understand . But, I finally got the
punch line to the joke!

Publication Date: 02-19-2010

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