dispomania

DIPSOMANIA

Finally the old man halted, he knew now that escape was impossible, his decrepit eyes scanned the floor best they could, the twiggy floor, the weed infested floor, the brambled floor, he stumbled with a degree of calculation arms outstretched in apprehension of contact, there as predicted, his numb fingers clasped the cold branch, felt along the object hidden by the darkness that surrounded the scene, a picture was concluded within his frail troubled mind, and turning with the precision of an articulated lorry reversing up a narrow alley, parked his fleshless buttocks onto the makeshift furniture, to his right a stick thrusted upwards from the main body of the branch he was sat upon, and with all the intellectual convenience nature presents us with from time to time, the stick forked at the end in the shape of a Y, this he hung the carrier bag he had been clutching with conflicting panic since he could remember, for a moment he leaned his forehead into his hands, leaned his elbows into his knees and leaned hid feet onto the floor, he cursed the joyful hoots of the forest around him, the clouds once again let the moon take a glimpse of our wonderful planet, the old man was able to visualise using this limited light source, the outlines of the bloodless objects alive all around him, he turned to the plastic bag hanging innocently at his side, despite the cold he had no desire to return to his room, the walls that surrounded his dwelling would mock him incessantly, and at some moments gather such momentum that he would hear an angry tempest rant at such powerful force that he would feel himself be crushed smaller and smaller until he was no larger than a full sized apple, a rotting maggot infested fruit, this is why he was out of doors, his critical sentiments would be free to dart out in all directions like the sonar of a bat with little rebounding, but still, to be sat alone, in a cold night, in a pitiless wood, with a companion that you tried to leave behind but were too frightened of the consequences, was not the most fantastic of situations either, with this in mind, the old man raised himself to his feet, he listened and car engines ever propelling themselves along the wind, a constant reminder that that what was known as civilisation was never too far away, he plucked the carrier bag from the branch, he herd it gulp in the movement, his eyes once more found the path that brought him here, that would return him home once more, and sucking inward through his nostrils the whole of the forest around him, he proceeded onwards to re insert himself into the box that all those people led him towards and pushed him into, although he knew it was all his own fault
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