Thump! Drums!! Thumping drums!!! Dudum! Dudum!!! Smoke swirls, merging colors...intertwined in unconventional complexity. *snap!*...she tilts her head slightly towards another's heart safe...
In a trance, waves spiral across her vision. In no specific order, the syntax of her life creates a montage. Revealing the color of fear, her heart pounds. Pounds. Pounding louder than her ears can tolerate. Slightly again, her head tilts...she catches the other's gaze, androgynous being just glares at her overflowing hair; it disappears into an ocean of pain, bleeding nostrils, archaic taste dissolves to the back of her tongue. Relax. She tells herself as the same words escape from "its" lips.
Outburst of laughter, seemed so far away, yet emerging from her gut. She watched her friends melt, the whirlwind coups her vision. Androgynous stays the same. Ever so bright, ever so colorful. In no specific order, you MUST see the beauty in this syntax.
Metal never tasted so good...rust never looked so bright...she thought to herself "I am sane." Sanity? She would be the last person to grasp its concept. Her lips graze this being...still an empty glare. Reminiscing about the rebels on these mean streets, she took a deep breathe, finding solace in a seemingly omnipresent jinx. Flashbacks: a stabbed rose: rape; abuse; brutality; slavery; restraint...loss of innocence! She stresses her vocals, embraces her disability...any point here? In no particular order, I say...respect the FUCKING syntax!!! A frown from the being puts things in perspective now...
Knowledge is far fetched, fear is a state of mind and laziness loves to lurk. Androgynous has hands, they cup her face, lifting her head up, forcing her to now look into these fully dilated pair. Androgynous whispers "a sloth spends 80% of its life asleep"...
In no particular order...her trance is narrated...respect the syntax and you just might get the message.
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