Fourth and Long

Felt the rain, cold… whispering… tapping me on the shoulder again…

The wind left her there. A park bench flipped over… over her. A tailwind came and went. Vision disabled. X number of day pass. X number of nights pass. Eventually we become the feet.

We become the rain… whispering… sad like lost puppies… never to find home…

The sulfur and fire consumed the vile. A path was left from your upcoming. Can’t wave you back. I remember a number of times I tried breathing.

SILENCE. SCREAMS. DESPAIR. Abolishment. Threaded loose. SUIT TO BE TIED.

Replace. The echoes counted us in to the three pace. For metronomes call us wild. The wild sights of living like you look you do. I played my part.

I easily walked the part.

But I failed to let go.

The funny thing is you think LETTING GO IS THE BEGINING OF THE PAIN. That once you drop, your hands will swell. That you lose all ability to touch.

Because you forget about gravity. Because letting go is just the start.

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