Sitting still
The rushing blood tunneling through the veins seem cold
Can't talk too much, can't think too much
Conversations becomes noises
Ideas are just clouds in the head
Passing clouds
Eyes wide open
None in sight but white glares
Thoughts loiters like a fly in the bottle
Intelligence takes a vacation
Motion that idles is tapping of the fingers
Simple movements are just disturbing distractions
Reality becomes a flat liner before it skips again
Veils over worries and concerns
A moment of blissful ignorance
A moment of escape.
::Tuesday, September 13,2005 ::
