Flux
A state in which the now, the then and the soon to be, all seems to buzz about in your mind. So fierce a force that your body becomes locked into it.
Sleep escapes you, despite exhaustion already having taken hold hours before. Action, too, is out of reach. The world slumbers on, unaware of the tear in time that has pocketed itself within your four walls.
The funny part is; it isn't all bitter. Some part of this flux is sweet. It tastes of chains that have been broken and of all the possibilities that had before been shadows, intangible and for someone else.Suddenly in reach and real again.
Yet the strings that are cut don't go quietly, though I may have seemed. Every string screeched like an unpracticed hand at the violin. With each cut, good memories must be left to fade into the never. A set of could be's abandoned to the wind, a million little pieces of paper each with a whispered hope. None to return.
Soon the flux must end, and the now must sink in, the then must be put away along with any future that could have been made from it. What is forged from that moment is of its own making, my own making.
Flux.
24/08/16 04:51 am
DU LIEST GERADE
With Love: A Collection of Works
PoesieA Collection of different writing medias I've experimented with, from prose, poetry and song lyrics to (very) Short Stories & 'Articles.' Some of these will be new pieces for this book, others I may have written a few years ago and just never had a...
