Random is as random does

I was thinking of breaking out, I was think of breaking down. I was thinking other random thoughts and reciting the words to Bruce Springsteen songs, over and over with tap on the elbow to accentuate those other drum beats. After a while I decided that all these things were pretty pointless so I sat at a bus stop and decided to get the first bus that came along. Eleven minutes later a bus drew up, I disliked the number so I ignored it and noticed no protestations from the driver driving, begging me or otherwise to get on. As it moved off into the night I stood up and walked the long walk home via a handy short cut in the space time continuum, always a better way to travel in my humble opinion. Once home I relaxed with a good strong drink, a nasty not so strong one and a flourish of battle hardened digestive biscuits. I could live like a king on this kind of diet if I could be bothered. The remote is now lost down the couch so I’m stuck on ITV4 until the hoover comes along. Typical you may say but that’ just how life is. At about 6.30 I finally fell asleep.

Five day detox

Five days of five fruits

Something is undecided about its nature, a mixture of pulp and seeds, flesh and inner marrow, unsure whether it should hang or drop, or to stop it being whatever it can. Good for the digestion and eyesight, ask a question about intestines and dynamite. Fruit flavours the worried part and you must believe it makes it right. The subtle shifting of the diet, the mash that moves and heals in quiet determination, inside and out, the easy meal and wrapped delight. The drug that calms you in the night. So once the detox is complete you can relax and soothe the memory of the headaches, suck and orange dry, scoop and hollow the avocado, squeeze a lemon into drip dry glass and watch the sparkle as the goodness comes to pass, through you.

On the fifth day...

All was well in theory but I craved a rush, a rush that fruit and perseverance cannot give. The rush I need to live. A life long poison, poison is for me in any form that comes with sugar. Why isn’t sugar a fruit? Why does it grow in a rich climate next to melons, coconuts and palms, pineapples, grapefruit and yams? Sugar is so discredited; from out of all the recipes it’s edited. Replaced and relaxed, cut out and waxed. On the fifth day I gave up on the brilliant but glum fruit all trees and supermarkets offer. The ugly pills I’ve discovered are the best, they pass the sweetest test. You can rest and try out any current mixture, smoothies concocted from and kiwis and grapes and for a short time you feel a little richer.

On the sixth day...

I gave up and had a coffee and a chocolate muffin.