Saturday, August 15, 2009



Hazy mist drifts by as I float,
gently descending through shifting currents.
My senses feel dulled
as though I were half sleeping,
drifting in a world of cotton wool.
The delicate shingling sound of a thousand marbles on wood
washes over me like the sands of time.
Then, like an eagle spreading its wings for flight,
I stretch my arms out, reaching up and up, higher and higher,
hurtling through this tranquil world,
I break the surface,
and breathe.



weird is just your own personal brand of normal

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