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The Old Man and The Glasses

The Old Man and the Glasses

**camera looks up from the desk revealing An old man through the Eyes of a mouse, his companion through day and night in hisTiny Dark Kingdom)

His face appears colossal against the darkness of the room- the light from a singular lamp illuminates his figure

Frail and thin, Face worn and haggard,Eyes beady and Small

They don’t open wide, yet they don’t squint either

Upon the desk lie a row of eye glasses, exactly the same, in shape, color and design

but Each with a Different Lens through which he May choose to look upon the world

The Variety Promises Endless Possibility;

So Much Freedom, a World of options

but THIS choice will Serve Up what He desires most

A World without Complications

It's hard work to Filter Out all which doesn’t quite Fit the Categories, Lists, Calculations and Predilection

Every Man can choose how he sees the world…The Old Man Chooses the same every single Time,No Room for Surprises

Sun shining brightly through paper-thin drapes

Grungy windows struggling to blur out the Blazing Yellow Orb

Awakened from his fantasies, He reluctantly begins the day

Rituals Await; One Two Three, One Two Three

First he Must cover his eyes with the lens of his choice

He looks to the side as If hoping when he looks back something may change

On returning his gaze to the desktop, he grimaces at the contents

Hands shaking, a fragile arm extends listlessly as fingertips form a claw to acquire their target

The Remaining Identical Pairs Lie in one neat row, Dust blanketing each lens

sun up to sundown, They Lie, unused and decrepit

Everyday he chooses , everyday the Same

Swiping them up, he Methodically Molds them to fit across his face

Old and worn, a heavy film of grease across the lens

Upon each lens, a tiny pinhole is poked through

The lens is thick, impenetrable by light, it appears opaque except for the bore hole in the center

Splendid! This apparatus will allow him to see only the darkness

The Parts outside himself have to Fit, they must be perfect

Perfectly Crepuscular, absent Sound, Or light. No colors, Only Grey and Black

The Rules are Strict, Only those things he looks upon which suit his internal state are Allowed IN

Hours tick by as in a time-lapse film, No movement; just the sun setting through dirty windows

Light Rays moving across the floor

Seeing the world Through This Lens allows him to say each night in his prayers:

Yes, it is as I imagine, It is all darkness

There is no light

If I can see no light, There IS no light

Goodnight world …….. And he covers up with his ragged old blanket

He awakens to screaming in the street outside his window

He rushes with enthusiasm to see

To see that his vision is real

More proof that the world is just full of wasteful wanton fools

The Unworthy, the valueless, oxygen stealers

As he gazes down to the street below

The scent of baking bread cannot help but be swept up into his nostrils

They dilate and his pupils momentarily open wide

His eyes open wide in response, Damn reflexes

MEH. He recalls his mother serving the most delicious meals with bread fresh from the oven

Walking the streets and smelling the baking in the mornings when he was younger

Watching people smile as they enjoyed bread and foods together

MEH, he ejects these thoughts from his mind and continues searching for the origin of that scream

He scans the sidewalk and finally sees there are two people

Pulling and pushing at one another, they are pulling at a bag slung over the shoulder of another woman

They stop pulling and the woman seizes back on her heels

“alright, you can carry it for me, I don’t know why you insist on helping, I can do it myself’

This raucous, the result of a benign good deed

An interaction between strangers, No real alarm

Hummppfttt he Groans

Idiots, all of them

He laments missing that one defining event to start his miserable day

Damn. Maybe he’d find it in the news

He reaches out to the bottom of his doorstep where the paper usually lies

Every morning, right on time, it hits the door to announce

Wake up, it’s a new day to be miserable

He awaits the smell of that ink and paper

It brings him what he needs every morning, the bad news, stories of loss and chaos

He’d choose that over the smell of brewing coffee or a lover’s warm shoulder any day

People, they’re all useless, Too Needy, Too much Trouble

The paper is wet today. It’s been raining but the flowers love it so well, they are open Wide

Painting the morning fog with Color

To gaze upon them, inhaling the beauty and variety, the eye is unable to distinguish their borders

Bushes Trees and Flowering plants, colors so vivid, they seem to blend...

Oh for fucks sake, NO need for this

He reaches for those lens’s

They keep him from a headache; Thinking

Thinking about whether things are right or wrong

Good or bad

Worth his time or not

He must see only darkness

There must be sameness and oneness with his sorrows

He tries time after time to write down his sorrows in a book

On a paper

In pictorials

Every time he tries, he gets to starting then remembers the smell of baking cookies

...And gets to stopping

Pondering the fairytales of his childhood

He shouts “ All lies, all lies”

They knock on his door

They ring his bell

His phone and the messages just keep coming

The People just won’t let him be..He must push them away

Let me be in my silence

Life is too long, he laments

They are not worth it

They will only bring you pain

People

Thorns in your side, Grinds in your coffee cup, Holes in your socks

Meh

And He gets On with getting on with Nothing , Each New Day

Wrinkles growing deeper, time boring into his skin, as if searching for a warm undercoating

The Hair Recedes

Signs of time apparent only on the living flesh and in the Dust……the dust Upon everything in his Tiny Dark Kingdom

The Dust of Ages

The Kingdom Of Nothing

a Poem from 2012 ( i got tons, but, never post them), Mainly because most are romantic or erotic metaphoric musings . fun to Write, never to post.

The Old Man and The Glasses

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