My Friend My Friend

 


All those cold spirits which flowed down from the mountain and echoed from other forces, those moments when he crashed to Earth and endured a terrible regret, the time lord who repeatedly whispered "100 million years 100 million years", a time stamp beyond human comprehension, that was it. He stared out the window and realised that time was passing.

Under attack, he crumbled. While only days before the spirits were cloaking him with high grade, multi-tech armour to hold true. But true to what? Sometimes you have to pay attention to his own instincts, but he trusted them no more than he trusted the voices that came and went in their enchanting, terrorising beauty.

When he came out, when the animals emerged from their protective burrows, when humanity shifted a gear, mobilised by the ubiquitous spread of mobile phones, of all the clarity, all the clarion calls, a gigantic spreading network. 

He shouldn't have been frightened, he shouldn't have tried to destroy himself, with bullets riveting through his brain, and each morning he awoke in a kind of terror. 

Even here, in another place, everyone in this different form a morning cafe were stuck on their mobile phones. 

And life went on without him. And still he did not understand. But somewhere, somehow, at last he was beginning to find hope again. 

What a sorrowful discourse. Ugh. There was much in the world to be fascinated about. 

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