it’s like the clock is still working but the gears are no longer turning
i’m burning up on empty
fuel dripping, leaking,
no longer capable of containing contemplations too volatile for proper taming, and so i’m just… resting.
a dormant chamber of magma underneath the bedrock is often due for massive explosion but i never liked being out of control and the last thing i need are for my insides to get torn open. a tree bearing great fruits brilliantly disguised to hide its reckless disharmonious motion.
That is fear speaking. Apprehension.
Avoiding the waves because what follows next is spinning down through the vortex** violently into uncharted oceans.