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Aug 2018
Lying, yellow lamp light illuminated the baron broadway.
Fear beginning to break through thought, fighting for freedom from intention.
“Be afraid”.
“Be very afraid”.
He stayed, splayed
on hard road looking peaceful in that white night.
Calling to the angels with snow.
“NO! Be afraid”.
“NO! Be very afraid I said”.
His mind was already made, he stayed splayed.
Weeping, wishing, waiting he welcomed what was to come.
“RUN!!”
“RUN!!”
“RUN!!”
But he was done, finished with the world.
Thought and fear swirled inside; whirlpools of midnight black carried him on tormented tides, torturing his mind.
Is this his time ?
Is this his time ?
Continue on ? and when they ask he’ll just say that he is fine.
Joke and laugh and long inside for things he’ll never find.
These were the thoughts that toiled in his mind, teetering on the edge, shears ready to cut thread.
Laying there....
Staying there as headlight begun to blind.
Feelings, thoughts and life its self bursting from there binds.
Faster, closer, louder. No one sees the signs and no one cares: pain so great it can’t be beared, hurt so deep it can’t be shared, pain that teared and teared and teared. Breaking will, it never stills, pain that built and built and built.
He just wants it to cease,
he just wants peace!.
He could smell it now, petrol in the air.
Hear the wind, see the light, his fear gave up the fight.
The engines roar, so loud that it silenced his mind.
The light got closer.
The light got closer, so many things not done, so many things unsaid.
And then....
he was starring at the moon as car and light and noise passed him over head.
He wasn’t.... Dead.
He wasn’t dead.
This started life as a winter scene but soon took on its own personality.
Curtis Owens
Written by
Curtis Owens  22/M/Scotland
(22/M/Scotland)   
  361
     Fawn, lX0st and Sharon Talbot
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