Thoughts are surging inward the mind, and outward the eye, meeting the grey waterfront. And the sun is veiled in pebbled blobs of clouds, which raises, by hand, a mindset that travels on painted walls, and tightens within you, but in blackness.
You search for the escape, from the electric theater of human bondage, but in real life you’re in tranquil slow-motion. A hundred arrows chasing after you, with a screeching imprint of words racing away, as you stand, gazing the mystery of the waves squeezing the shore, and the concrete that gives place to you seems to be salted by gravel spilled from the ovenbirds that that set ablaze the sunshine, and then crash against the pillar of your resting palms.
Stare fixed at the horizon, nose flaring at intervals in semblance to segments of broadcast news.
Standing motionless, with a psychological dream at repetition, a movie…
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