Did i miss some entries? Or should I have rather looked for exits?
I missed them just as well.
I missed my exit from route 101 and got suck somewhere in the middle of the blurred apparitions of your face between imaginary LA and haunted San Francisco.
Entries and exits the inns and outs, the old in-outs - I missed them all.
Simply jump back twenty blocked exits, make a memorable entry, expose yourself to the complacent public, let them see you stripped to the blood-stained meat on your broken bones, spit it all backwards and swallow the blow. I did.
Red is the color of revelation, the revolution girl bleeds roses and wine, I swallow her revolutions with the corners of my mouth and jump back twenty entries to crash into the planets and galaxies revolving on the orbit of her smile. This one comes with blackberry flavor. My fingers are black and I choke on the berries of her words dropping from the tree and into the exit from this highway, low-way and no-way.
Simply jump back and keep moving. In no time you’ll see the first one, the cornerstone of the house that Jack built for the insane rabbits and Japanese cats with kinky smiles. They dwell in the out-of-balance tower that has been falling down and in love forever, since the time when jumping back to other entries was impossible. Back to the bleeding womb of the Sun. Back to the slashed veins of the tree-girl.
Biting and struggling and wriggling out of the rusted clock. Jumping back with a smile on your love-scarred face out of the entry door through the fire exit and into the oblivion.
You might be a tree or a star or the Three Wise Men or any other creature of the night from or out of this world but you started something that throws me back to seek the exits from this head with gaping holes and sunrays coming back into the source of this paralyzing light. I started something that makes me fly back to find the entry to the roots of the tree with carved hollow beasts eating my grease-stained soul alive and making me wonder. Making me think if I ever was the one who wrote the commandments for the blind. Making me soft as melting wax and frozen as a metal pole at the South Pole.
Opposites attract, doors slam, and I fly twenty entries back only to find myself ahead of the spider, just two feet ahead of the spider.
If I missed something, please jump twenty exits forward. I’ll catch you there.