The crown of an angel

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

A five mile minute with the mind of a peep was cutting slices in his fingers over all the rusty ideas pervading into his consciousness that were bringing suspiciousness and other crazy things like that and causing him to misrepresent himself to himself as if there was something else, maybe some kind of judgement that was overseeing him to make him express himself in such a way.

I was the angel in the corner greasing down my wings where normal is an illusion and the walls crumble daily and the bullshit is let out through the open windows of despair with the hope that it never comes back in again, and feeling like something should be crushed in the machine loop that crushes all before it in its monstrous crushing.

The peep died screaming in his rage to set the clocks back all over again, and wouldn’t take anything for real but the pain of his defeat, some salient ministration only the dead could deal with.

Well, I was either right or wrong, or somewhere in between and spending shillings on my brain to make the feelings come again about what I was doing here; but whichever way I looked I couldn’t see what use I was in this vision that was splashing about me. So I took off again to find something else to get into, and left the peep to die.

I’m not fussy mostly, over who I observe in their passing; all souls go to heaven sooner or later. Some have bridges they’ve built out of gold, and some have only a longing to be taken home, and the rest must feel much like the hangman’s relief when he goes off duty to crawl into bed and forget about it all.

As I flew around looking I found I was open to wonders, and hope, and love prayers where the lonely gave all their counts to be saved.

It is these ones that draw me towards them and keep me going, even though I have to experience so much other along the way; such as peeps cutting themselves open to be known this slice of the lover’s crown.

Taking out my sword, I slashed all about me to take down the darkness I could not see through. And cutting away I sang out my lovers cry: yah ha ha.

Raging against it all I cut my fingers to the bone to drink one more moment, and then another one, and hoping they would never stop as I kept on going through the tempest.

What you think, you become is an old maxim that covers it all pretty much these days, and it’s enough of a reason to live by most of the time while you pick your mind apart, but no matter how much you cry, you’ll never find an angel wearing a crown like this anywhere, so pay your attention, or else.

Selfishly, I became my own judgement, and under sentence to be judged. So, looking around through the screaming dust at my own demise where I was silent as silent could be I saw nothing, no matter how much I came to my senses, literally and figuratively.

After about a five mile minute later in this configuration I just had to come up for air to breath in, and found I was in a deep deep ocean and gasping for my breath, where the only thing on my mind was: just one more breath.

I will wake up soon, and very much, I just know it; like the peep, swimming in his brain, like the crown of an angel coming alive again after being asleep for so long, and living for all I'm worth worth…

The only one that can save me is me I said as I grew deeper into myself where I was dying like the historical beast out of the mystical machine.

The crown of an angel fitted so perfectly when I put it on, but now I want to take it off, soft as a lover, this crown of an angel, and leave it somewhere where it can’t be found, and I can go free where I would.

When that time comes when you are nobody’s angel, you will know things that nobody else knows, but until then, you will be just another peep and passing all and sundry in your dash to heaven.

The next race is at three forty seven, so make sure you’re in your seats by then…

That’s all for now folks, over and out…

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

Images from Pixabay

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