11 May 2010

A fleeting thought.

There is the buzz of life in my skull, the birth of a new place for you to hide. The seconds stretch into black space and absorb you into their depths—warm and comfortable, despite some apprehension. When finally after a billion billion years of swimming, pretending you are swimming, you reach the edge, only disappointment waits: an ingrown hair or some fracture too small for any notice. After tugging and prying to no avail, all that is left is to make the tired way back and hope to forget such bitter loss or else wonder there forever why you even stirred at all.