Something different about how I sense the world. The subtle feeling of lessening fluid pressure overhead, anticipation for that instant my open mouth can break surface to drink in cold drenched air.
What is it?
Like Helianthus tracing the sun overhead, my disjointed face trails this forever-approaching future. Streak through me, rain me down. Threading endless water in free-fall.
1 comment:
...I see. =]
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