The_Ouroboros_Project_#30_The_World

Here’s something to smile about

Heroic is the day as the sun shineth through greying meadows where pixies gaily frolic with bulging pockets, softened tussock giving way underfoot, avalanche down

The pixies and their suits and their ties and their fictitious flip charts; they are heroes of the newly blackened soil

And why are the fat kids crying? Oh, it’s because they don’t have enough presents. They want more. They always want more 

Through their dirt, skinny kids with flies on their faces laugh and smile; their tears are dust, their pockets are their guts

The pixies are with them, pockets bulging, prancing, smiling, suit tails flaring; their hideous smiles are black, dripping and black like the earth

And then butterflies pierce the murk of the sky through through the sun that shineth—Oh and the soft bodies of the skinny children that stand in their way

So they explode

They explode for some time

They explode forever

Red mist, red mist and its dripping red rainbow glowing through the now sunny haze

It floats, serenely, like a slow-motion deluge, down, avalanche, down

The pixies faces are red now—smiles intact—looking skyward, then downward; skyward, then downward; grinning sickly, sweetly, so deeply my stomach empties

Pockets ever bulging, ever bulging, ever bulging, ever bulging - ever bulging. Mine bulge too, of course

The fat kids stand with umbrella dripping red. They're, of course, still crying; they want more presents, they need more presents, they never have enough presents, someone get them some presents. For the love of god, the presents, the presents

Deluge now becomes sea, the rainbow gone, the pixies gone

The red sea rises around our ankles; ever higher, ever higher, smothering the black earth