Jungal

Let me tell you of the Jungal. It is a deep place of sharp stone, twisted bark and sticky leaves. There are harsh points at every turn, needles and spikes. There is food and poison in abundance. There is prey and predators to be found and stalked by. Eyes are everywhere; you won't know how to look. The canopy is so high and the organisms so foreign, you'll never know where you are. The light and shadow play such a chaotic game that you will never be able to tell circles from straight lines as you walk. Familiarity will be refused to you always. Thee will be no home. There will be no bed. In the night you must run and in the day you must shake. Quiver away fear; it evaporates from flesh as it stretches. Too bad the air is laced with treachery. At least there is no next week in the Jungal; there is only tomorrow - maybe. Yesterday is today. You don't know where you are now, you'll try catch up to the present eventually. There are mystic beings waiting in the deep Jungal, where the plants grow thicker, the leaves rise from the floor and spread like dresses in the breeze. The mystic gorillas wait for you in the green fashion and breeze. They sit with their mouths full, eyes only visible through the brush. They see through their dark, brown, black and glassy eyes; they see not who you do in the brown waters that have been ripping through your intestines with worms and bacteria seeking a new Jungal. The gorilla sees a creep. You are skinny and weak; a demonic freak whose only threat is its weirdness. How ugly and jarring you are. You must smell like rot and stupidity. Are you going to disappear into shadow? Should the gorilla crush you? Or should he share with you his magic potion? He took my hand once, and pulled me through a Jungal I never knew. It was soft and smelt luscious. We found a deep ditch full of flowers. They were purple and brown, dry and wet. The lilies smelt like poison, but looked a fragrances. The gorilla took me by the ankle gently, and guided my step above the ditch. I took heed and leaped. I fell into the bottomless bog of sludge and sand, salt and sweet. All became dark, and an ocean quickly creeped up my falling limbs. With my dark vision, I saw only red. I smelt rot and fermentation. Grape mulch slapped the sole of my feet. I was stood still in a crimson ocean filled with flowers. I call out. The ocean replied. It said it is one hundred million years old. The youngest flower was four thousand years old. I was asked to breathe until I could no more. I stood inebriated. I tried not to puke. I was shaken like a leaf from the very bottom of my skin. My limbs took on a life of their own. It became obvious to me that the mechanics of nature disguise themselves in flesh from the mind. I watch my robot form work until I was asked to close my eyes. I explored lives and dimensions untold to this day. And such is how they must remain for now. I lived like the Jungal knew I could until the leather palms of the mystic gorilla raised me from the depths of the bottomless flower pit. I was sad and changed. The gorilla left me in my stupidity. I walked through new Jungals each day on. I don't know how to name the many fears. I don't know how to see time. I don't know how to describe transformation. I feel hungry at all times, but refuse to eat. I am confused. My hair is growing thick. I long for love. Maybe one day I can find it.