(no subject)
I find myself blasting through thoughts as if they were paper in a gust of wind. I can’t seem to keep them from scattering - a whirlwind of goldenrod and eggshell; thick heavy thoughts that just explode into a tornado of disillusion and opacity. They won’t sit still. Nor will I. I run. I run until my heart is on fire, blistering my ribcage and scorching my arteries. My tendons scream, shooting gripping convulsions all over my body praying for me to stand stationary. My eyes water as the wind tugs at my lashes; I have to close them. I’m running blind as fast as I possibly can with a fluttering paper trail in my wake.