dude, don't harsh my mellow

i flow on the waves of my brain this morning. eyes wander here, thoughts wander there...suddenly i'm focused on my headphones: filter is singing to me about feeling like a newborn. my eyes glide to the pages of my book, at the top of the page is the title: metamorphoses. the moment's synergy does not escape me, and i pause to wonder if my brain or the world is trying to tell me something.

float, float, out the streetcar window onto the velvety winter landscape.
smile...
muse...

and then my eyes are brought back to the page, so i read. it's the tale of Apollo separating the satyr Marsyas from his skin. "it was all one raw wound. blood flowed everywhere, his nerves were exposed (...) it was possible to count the throbbing organs."

jebus.
just a half-page of gore, randomly snuck in to horrify me on this quiet, lazy morning. mood killer, man - harshing my matinal mellow. and i sure as shit hope there was no hidden message from the universe in that!!

and my eyes drift again, flying from the page to ride the receding rails as i look out the subway's back window and plunge forth, forth into the day. (borne ceaselessly into the future? something like that.)