The creaks of this old creature.
Once alive, now left as a mere display, configured as something else.
The creaks are not to be feared.
Creaks are sorrowful sighs of what has passed: what will never be.
It is in mourning.
Grieve for it. Never fear. Grieve.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Car Ride
Millions of tiny particles fluttering about, racing along the skin,
pressuring the thoughts to maintain an equal amount of speed.
Keep up.
The race is endless. With every new second confusion and fear is invite in, there is no excitement, only worry.
Breathe in.
The particles race faster and the entire scenery is one huge blur filled with magnificent colors interlocking to form one major threat.
Keep up.
A collision is inevitable; all the colors swirl, there is no distinction.
Breathe in.
Among the horde, the buzz, the kaleidoscope mural, there is one that hovers about all, a grave warning that must be crosses before it is too late.
Keep up.
The particle aren't dancing. The colors are understandable. Waiting. The fear is leaving. The confusion dissipates. Calming. The thoughts are normal.
Red light.
Breathe out.
Keep up.
The race is endless. With every new second confusion and fear is invite in, there is no excitement, only worry.
Breathe in.
The particles race faster and the entire scenery is one huge blur filled with magnificent colors interlocking to form one major threat.
Keep up.
A collision is inevitable; all the colors swirl, there is no distinction.
Breathe in.
Among the horde, the buzz, the kaleidoscope mural, there is one that hovers about all, a grave warning that must be crosses before it is too late.
Keep up.
The particle aren't dancing. The colors are understandable. Waiting. The fear is leaving. The confusion dissipates. Calming. The thoughts are normal.
Red light.
Breathe out.
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