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Recipe 13

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posted on Mar, 19 2017 @ 03:14 PM
So, to cook to the heart’s content is to fraternize with absolution?” I asked my whittled bare naked friend full of animosity. I added, “Jack frothed at the morning sun.”

Greenland answered, “We meddle to dismember all avarice of dreams.”

He continued. “Were we to fantasize; entertain the entire capsule, surely whims freed upon the rotten doom would embrace any fickle spurt of martyrdom…”

And on it went with our morning coffee, wanton in our decadence. We had embarked on a symphonic joyride these past few nights. Our daze still led us through the realization of time slips.

“And what of the last spark?” I remarked as much as asked him. The coordinates of the ever breeze set upon us like thin film covering the freshly hatched. By now I realized I was pressed for time so I responded in haste.

“Greenland, my dearest elope, whatever you chose to rinse oval office with, will always leave its doors open for one so improvised and fragrant. The way you meddle is of the rancid emptying. So is it any wonder we sip the same milk. The same irony in the blood?”

Before we knew it, the day had turned again. Our indecision eventually caught up and asked us in blunt terms. “Shall we depart from this wreckage? Might we succeed in the bowels of remorse? We can, can’t we?

Always a negative question that spurned against us with knife in hand. How now, could we not proceed? I was ready with a few words. I told Greenland to wander ahead, as his enthalpy was naught but a chime past derelict. As soon as he supposed I had turned the corner, we sought our first exit. We happened upon an uncovered, awkwardly laid stone that made us stumble just from the gaze we afforded it.
Words arose. Greenland merely chuckled in poetic frost, “Can’t be here!” “Way’s supposed to perfected by short circuits, no?” More negativity. I shot him the glaring jaunt that always preceded and replied: “Dear Greenland, let us at least examine the corpse. Nothing so wretched by motionless pandering comes forth.” We were now facing the hard questions.

“If we learn nothing we’ll obviously complete our mission,” I parried, not sure if I was beginning or ending. Greenland found his walking stick upon the jutted outcropping of floor. It was like a tiny serac. It commanded respect from its indignant neighboring proportions. I fathomed that It only desired to trip any it could. I thought that acting upon it; to feign pretense, would only stoke whatever conclave the tomb was ranting about; other than humbled entropy.

With a poke and a pry Greenland managed to undress our formidable woe, which so suddenly and predictably prevented us from continuing our mission to the correct formation.

“Can it be cooked? I asked, quite curious. Greenland had the serac out on its back. With him occupied with his breathing life into a dead rock, I peered over the edge of its daring grave.

“The draft radiates a wry cow,” I spaced my words carefully to Greenland.
And further, “What do you suppose caused this anomaly?”
Greenland was not present enough to act in patience.

“The maiden voyage writhes in Prius calm,” he responded carefully. “Sweat alone and courage will succumb if we walk on. Tinted windows can surely be of use.”

My fingers snapped in dredged finite glee.

“Of course, I exclaimed. This thrown away stone must let us pass. Say the words and let’s be on with this jest of a quest.”
Greenland chimed up sarcastically, “Yes sir kind pissing man.” He rattled the walls with grenades of thought that crafted the tiniest drop of ‘I don’t care’ upon the rock. The indifference was the only idea that urged the rock to kindly set itself back into its place. Neatly. like it had never left. Thus, ensuring a safe leg. These necessities would never be overlooked by Greenland. I was definitely thankful to have him along on the mirth. I knew I had to find the words to the song in which the theme I had no idea. The only thing I knew was that Greenland would telepathically speak the words to me.

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