<< flowerpod >>
2003-17-02, 8:08 p.m.

You jump as if there is no gravity, as if you are as high as the snow in the clouds, but you can't resist the gravity. It nags at you, pulling you in towards its magnitism, your legs are sowed into the ground. Nothing there but you and the sun. You stop your struggling and rebel. So you grow roots to attack that central force, the magnets that keep you secure. More than one root is produced so that there can be an army to attack the parasite. You grow. Stronger and with much length, the sun wills you towards it, it is your siren. You are free but not. Freedom is your goal but it will never be attained. But it is faith that drives you. Living is made easier and more frivolous. The sun tells you to stop acting, stop thinking you are infallible. You ignore her call. Your army spreads, your faith is high. Then.... You are ran over by a lawn mower. Hilarous isn't it?

<< Pacing >>


Papercut | Molding | The List | Breaking Linguistics | Mirror| Delusion Fade
Conform
Email | Your Mark | Bleed | Your Mother | Thumbnail | Feast | Designer