The Saddest Thing I’ve Ever Seen (Chapter I)
My left palm still hurts. Going, preparing without a backpack on my back. My left palm still hurts so much that my stomach feels like burning for it. Preparing for the pink waterfall, maybe I’ll behold it this time. Maybe I’ll heal myself there, maybe not, she doesn’t care. Oh, come on, Jack, stop with the self-talk.
You first need to get over this dune of sand, stop with the self-talk. And so I took myself on this little road, asking if I will meet somebody there.
A frog, immediately. “Wow, what are you doing here, sweet pea? You will dry here to your death, don’t do that,” said I. And then it started to sing. “Everything takes a long time at the cobwebs of black. Let me tell you one before you will be born, before you will start to mourn. The world is full of twats. Should you respect yourself, don’t go.” He cried out so loud that it made me bow to him. “Thank you, that’s exactly what I would say to a sperm.”
I wondered about that frog’s fate and my heart was heavy. But sometimes, a man cannot save everybody.
Sand, as everywhere, is not comfortable with shoes on. As I’m walking up this dune, sweating my water, trying not to whisper that life is not so good at all, I just heard the frog behind, I knew it had been his last words. “Paralysis comes over but never is.”
Insufferable memories of my new Prada of my previous future personality.
It was such Jean-Paul Sartrean jazz full of juice.
More to yellow. All afternoon, I dance with a pint glass full of water.
Just quiet and calm, dark air and the wind blows.
At a distance, a fizzing storm, clay and a fizz.
Slowly move, then a far noise.
Some swinging energies of the night melt.
A sense quietly and with clapping, leaves.
It annoyed all the positive bell.
But somebody here is flowing in the mud.
To encourage us, they are trying.
Well, not in such a successful way.
The wind just stopped, then, I’m not so sure if your theory’s right.
You’re mixing two things at the same time, pitiable boy.
But I as well wonder now how greatly a coincidence looked.
I’m not even sure if your concept exists.
I sounded drugged, and so I was.
Well, why am I acting old?
And until my complete future,
where the hell was I moulded?
David Lenna is nothing and everything in the universe. Not in yours, of course. He lives in Prague, but still you can send him some regards (twitter.com/hehasanaccount).