it's in the smell of embers. it's under the whispering leaves. it's in the salmon of dusk. it's on the trails of your breath as you sleep. it's six minutes and 27 seconds after the last track. it's on the buttress bend of grace cathedral. it's on the teardrop that just won't fall from the tip of your nose. it's dancing on the strings of lovers' gaze. it's everywhere.

time stands still when too much information is processed at once. a human has been taught to ignore suppress certain senses. so when other dimensions are opened, and information begins to overlap, time ceases to be relevant in the way it had been before. i'm tripping. and i'm absolutely not tripping. i am looking at the frailty of human and hear it loud and clear. i said, I HEARD IT LOUD AND CLEAR. maybe the first round of intense suffering was enough. or was that the warm-up. i can take it. sickness and death are not unique. i do not pretend to be special just because i'm going through this. i am not claiming to be facing my own death. i am going through this as a witness. but a witness who still has to wear the truth of it. i do not self-inflate just because i have suffered. instead i feel morose. because death and suffering are common. maybe we cling to it like it defines our living. i am rejecting that. i am wearing the mask of my own mortality. and all that i may witness. and i am afraid. and angry. and small. and larger than life. i'm not ready to be in NY. i'm too young.

please no comments.

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