I‘m parked behind the collision. Leaning back, observing the fire show of twisted metal and crackling screams. Never impeding, never involved. A little step too slow in every direction. Forever since my life would allow to recall.
Parked, but inching forward
I drag the oars of a square boat, treading the mean still waters of a round river. Neither adopting the art of floating nor sinking. I let sigh to myself, i don’t agree with your ways, water. But you have me cornered, once again. Awkward, with no hole to dig.
And with these words that I lasso from a overdrive run, it will soon hit that I am but a face, an impression projected by an entity of a body, held tight, together by written word over word til the spaces between such aimless scribbles, covered, hidden, incomprehensible.
I curse at myself. For I may have gotten thus far. For I may have bestowed to me the hope of pulling out unscathed and on top. But that the hope is only subjective. I hurried myself a brief, stolen sentence that I am much larger at heart and mind. To play a reel of an onward life that is almost also subjective.
Comprehend. As tis the only way. I extend my palm, into the wind before me, to take you inside. Mind.
Odd, I feel today.
Sincerely,
Jinn
