a fiesta of charms

...I remembered Benny’s last words before he left that
afternoon just as the Bus manoeuvred into Islington, the
tender hooks of desperation coupled with a fervent mood of
Criminality... a casual desire to escape the system...
...I soon got off the Bus and continued to walk, memories
transcending the old relic of time, the periphery of thoughts
mostly about when...
...when I would accept the humour of existence...
...when I would be relinquished of this burden of life...
...when I would accept the tyrannies of social order and face
up to the reality of doing what every other person was doing...
...when I would next speak, and which words would leave
these parted lips...
...the severance of today...
...now seemed most important, walking through busy
streets of commuters, stragglers, perhaps the possible like
minded individual... as I conjured thoughts related to the idea
that I should accept the monotony of existence or do
something about it...
...fabric of packing...
...I packed a small backpack... underwear, a few shirts
and put on a jacket... searching and finding underneath the
mattress some notes that I used to take a cab... a sense of
debilitation ran through me as the night took on a hue I hadn’t
envisaged, as if in the arms of a woman, but without
burdening life with the simplistic thought of a woman...
...I took the last train and accepted I was now off the
grid...
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