I cling, white knuckled, to this supersonic freefalling animal. My fingers strain, in tufts of hair, to hold on. When my grip seems strongest I find out it is weakest. I nearly let go but still I hold on. This mad beast, this psychotic animal does not heed my call. I try to guide it, I try to direct it. It changes direction constantly. Its twitching leaps and jolts thrash me about. I do not know where it is taking me. The heavy shadow of an insignificant future weighs upon me dragging me down. Everything before me is dark. Yet the rampaging speed never falters as I cling.
I pass places I want to stop at and linger for too long at places I would rather pass through. I learn things I should have remained ignorant about and remain ignorant about things I should know. This spastic creature drags me face down in the mud. I see the people, the skies, the buildings, the birds. They make no sense to me. The dirt is in my eyes and the mud is in my mind. I am travelling at breakneck speeds with no control.
I can survive the lack of control.
Not knowing the destination is what gets to me.
(I wrote this last year, the title is all the explanation that is necessary)
love the ending,
ReplyDeletea piece from last year,
yet it reads fresh and new.
cool sentiments.
well done.
Life does feel like this sometimes. Well written, Fyodor.
ReplyDelete