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The Eclectic Pen - double positive

By: ericjasongastelum   + 52 more  
Date Submitted: 11/21/2010
Last Updated: 11/21/2010
Genre:
Words: 484
Rating:

the wind moves, escaping a narrow freeway of trees and exhaustively departing the sea. touring the world with an energy that can only be seen while interacting and brushing against the visible. i inhale through my nostrils and imagine as i close my eyes that something is grabbing hold of ever part of my lungs and fueling me. distributing air to my blood and my blood being pumped vigorously into my body. air, unseen, clear, unobserved, observed. i pray to god and obsess that maybe he is the effect of my hair whipping in the wind, or the laughter from every small child i have ever heard. a chill runs down my back and i feel insane, or full of laughter, or like fingers running along a chalkboard. i feel a giggle in my mouth but understand that it is not what i feel in my gut. i think of a joke, a good joke: "a linguistics professor was lecturing his class one day. 'In English', he said, 'A double negative forms a positive. In some languages, though, such as Russian, a double negative is still a negative. However, there is no language wherein a double positive can form a negative.' a loud voice from the back of the room piped up, 'yeah, right!' " i laugh in my head, but not in my heart. i recite the voice under my breath, "yeah, right..." words, simple words, light pronunciation, two hums, one click, an abrupt end to the statement. the words, their life, brief and complete, those words echo in my head as i try to concentrate on a pile of leaves moving and swaying across the street.thoughts full of madness burn the wheat fields in my heart, fields golden rushed with the tongue and spit of flames. even in my own imagery there is a process that is happening where oxygen is a must, a fuel and force transformed into visibility. my thoughts are a strange loveless oscillation between calculation and instinct. to weigh the price of fuel, or to continue in the process of dragging, effortlessly, air into my lungs. i'm a machine operated by an essence that does not want to go on, but the machine continues living through it all. breathing, pulsating, pumping, living. my stomach hurts instantly, i feel defeated by my very mind, no escape, nowhere possible to rest or hide. where my umbilical chord used to be connected there is a pain. "connected... connected. connected?". my head is light as i stand to peer stronger through the window. peering straight through the invisible sky. i process memories of living in Boston and for a moment realize that the air hurt to breathe during the winters. "the. air. hurt. to. breathe." ice hung on moist molecules of oxygen and hydrogen. the fuel of life is much more than paired elements and i cannot ignore this for much longer.

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