Extra-Dimensional

- Can someone please tell me what this is all about?

- Its about a man. A man who lived. A man who awoke in the morning to smell fresh dew on the grass, and parried a little while, before bending down painfully to pick up the newspaper. A man who went to work his shift in a factory, who stood in an assembly line for hours on end using his expertise in the mundane and monotonous. Who cast his sobriety in a bid for sustenance and liesure. Who screwed cogs onto machines moving slowly on a languid conveyor belt, unwittingly becoming a worthy cog himself in the ramshackle construct of urban existence. Who earned a salary and provided for a family which he called his, by picking out 8 hours of his day lovingly and feeding it into the blast furnace. Who came home to a loving, immaculate wife, who kissed him and asked him how his day was, humming merrily in the kitchen making dinner while he spoke, and to his two noisy children, apples of his eyes, whom he sent to school and for piano lessons. Who watched television with a beer in his hand, filling his mind with swiftly moving images which accounted for entertainment in his life. Who paid bills and taxes which sucked him dry but kept his conscience clear and made him in his own eyes an honest and outstanding citizen. Who bought a car, and took a loan, and mortgaged his house, and went to PTA meetings, and voted a for a bright future and watched it all crumble down in the wake of ruthless war-mongers and faceless propaganda-makers. Who clung desperately and assiduosly to a thin, brittle string of patience and solidarity in the hope of retaining a normal, wholesome life of contentment and fulfillment, which would elude him till he breathed his last. Until he would cease to be the man who lived. Until he would be buried under the same grass on which he once started his day. Until he would be mourned and missed by his family and friends. Until he would be a tombstone, his life shortened summarily into a 20-word epitaph. And he would be lost to utter anonimity.

- Golly, that sounds like my father.

- And mine. So we are brothers.

- No, we're not.

- Yes, we are. All men are brothers.

- No, they're not.

- Certainly, they are. We are descended from our father, the conceptual man, the perfect one, the faultless ideal. You and I are his imperfect sons. Our follies and misgivings are fogivable, for although bits of that perfection seeped into all of us, they were mixed and churned into a crucible of sins and falsities. So here we are, in a world of his progeny who are but parts of our own being, and all we can find are differences and points of departure.

- But you and I cannot be brothers.

- Why not? Why do you disagree so fervently?

- Because love is far more important than fraternity.

- I love you, brother. I love you like you were a part of my own being. I care for your cares and rest and well-being. Can you not see that?

- But if we were to brothers, your sister would be my sister.

- Yes. That is true. What of it?

- I love her. She is the love of my love. On a velvet night, with glistening diamond gemstones in the sky, with paintbrush cotton-fed clouds and silver poker-faced moon, I made love to her between smooth satin sheets, all sweaty and wondrous, the delight of a journey through her body like streamlined fingers I entered her gardens of lustrous flowers and insanity. Beauty and lust and dreams and pleasure and wine and water and passion and redemption and blood and life and death and birth and cycles and circles and form and matter and shape and structure and light and darkness and crests and troughs and rhythm and speed and excitement and lethargy and climax and sleep.

- You bastard! You motherfucker! You son of a horned swine! You illegitimate product of the devil's lust. You shit-eater of the lowest gutters. Damnation! Hell-fire! Curses! You son of a dirty whore! I will kill you. No. I will cut your balls off and slice your shaft. Then I will rape your sister and kill your mother in front of your eyes. Then I will eat your flesh as I slice it off bit by bit till there's nothing left of you but blood and bones. Then I will drink your blood and powdergrind your bones and burn them and dance around the fire in madness. I know where your live and I have seen where you sleep. Just you wait, shitfucker. I will send you to the steamiest bowels of hell till even your spirit writhes in agony and terror and begs for mercy and forgiveness. And then I will kill myself and go to hell and go to work on your spirit......