he calls out to the sweeping patterns painted upon the sky. confusion sends him spinning off course; the colors won't stop bleeding into eachother. so how could he possibly stay within the lines? everything's all chaos. there are too many angles where there should be curves. delusions crowd his head, all screaming at eachother, insisting that that they be heard. "shut up!", he shouts, "i am in control." nothingness laughs back at him, so loud that silence builds to an unbearable level. something inside him snaps and the transformation is complete. or is he even changing? too many questions for too small a space. he can feel the air molecules pressing in on all sides. he tries to fight it, but something inside him tells him to let go; that arguing with gravity and other forces of nature would only end with him getting hurt. so he relaxes and allows himself to melt into the breeze. in doing so he becomes pollens and spores from faraway lands and a million other things too small to be detected by the naked eye, and that's when the mischeviousness sets in. if he could not be seen, then how could he be stopped? a wave of amusement sweeps through him as he chases cardboard dragonflies and other tentative possibilities until he is so exhausted that he can no longer laugh without his sides hurting. he watches the sun sink into the earth, and the cool breath of night awakens all of nature's insomniacs. the whole universe exhales and he feels that he is able to stand. he does, and grows to a height of such great intensity that he hits his head on the moon. "ouch" the pain is so sharp it's almost exquisite. his fingers tingle, and he brushes off his self-consciousness so that he can walk easier. he can feel dew forming on his eyelashes and silvery stars getting entangled in his hair. and he is content, but he feels alone... a walking shadow amoung brilliant shafts of light. but he accepts the darkness because he purposely flips the switch. "you can't blame others for your own self-inflicted destruction", he reasons. "wait, did i just think logically? i thought that i had left that realm long ago." then he crashes down into reality, carried by the weight of rational thought. and he is sad because he can no longer decieve those who see with their eyes or chase flying creatures through an emerald sky, but he can still feel the rhythmic breathing of the universe. and he smiles, for he knows that those on a different level from him cannot; that comprehension of a greater world is his. that if this is self-destruction, than surely deterioration is life giving.

el fin (the end)