Therefore I Sleep

Taken from The Absurd in the Desert, 2007, by Andrew H. Kuharevicz

Down the path I walk alone. Away from the
institution that harnessed my fear. Feet, leather bounded
and blistered prance so joyfully through the leafs that
have fallen from the curved branches of the stationary oak
trees. Slamming doors, barking dogs and hurried cars and  all
anger intermingle with the infinite array of theoretical
images that dusty novels provided to such a persistent but
still alarmingly amateur mind. Hands in sweaty pockets,
hair parted to the side, and bitterness causing the nose to
perspire. The chest seems to collapse, concepts then are
unwrapped, and further down the valley I wander. Months
ago skipping stones on Lake Michigan provided memories
to materialize in the naturally inebriated world. But now no
longer is the sun refreshing to the pale, aging, and misused
skin. And so I walk further down the concrete hill. Departed
from the location where the great ideas sleep alone during
the night and are detached from the insomnia that blurred
my twitching vision. But as the moon overtakes the black
sky this waking sickness will be inflicted upon the
impoverished and isolated artist. The Wind, the
temperature that no longer dares to rise, and the lonely
drunken tears that flow late at night from one’s own eyes
encourage the removal of such a contradicting and willfully
applied socialized mask. A smile is the gesture, the freedom, and it is the revolt that
gives the artist whom is overwhelmed by the absurd and
whom has willfully been exiled into solitude a reason to
become further lost, bewildered while always entangled
within the only existence they will ever be privileged to
intellectually doubt.

Down I walk, passed the streets where old loves, memories,
and friends reside. Through the mindless maze which
humbles my flawed philosophical method that tries so
earnestly to describe what any of this actually means. In the
search for truth I have only found my dreams. Therefore,
therefore, therefore I sleep.