At this moment you are the Mona Lisa. You are the last tiger. You are the sun. Tearing through the branches, their gnarled limbs catching at you making you wish you were naked just so your clothes would not catch. But they do. They catch and they twist at the dress and the patent leather shoes. You liked how they looked modest and antique. You even liked how hard it was to walk in them. One of many of your undevoted sacrifices, you’re happy little taunts to yourself. And all that mattered once but now it doesn’t. You are the moon. You are singular. You are the first rain drop. You are Albert Einstein. Never in your life had you ever had this clarity. Never, but now you are there. An entity focused on one single concept. Mostly, a word that keeps replaying in your head. Over and over again as if some insane screaming record player in your head was skipping. You are Lucy. You are superman. You are checked out. And now by some primal instinct, you can feel time running out. The shadows creep in towards you, thick in the air. You let go of the final vestige of self awareness and glance backwards, only to see the incessant end at your heels, colliding and dissolving the barriers in it’s path with a wall of sound. Feedback.
