I’m standing there.. for an external motion of static stillness, motionless like Greek statues. Realistic but unmoving, wait also clothed, just saying for clarity.
A motorway of vehicles passing. Like clogged arteries trying to burst through. But I step up on the linear lines of slowed motion..
Many slumber upon my wayward steps, like time flawless and still. But there is always that one.. singular.. **** nugget.. that thinks that there time is vastly superior to the motion of others.
And like boiling water I scowl upon they’re collateral reflection. Glaring upon there misguided vision Of righteousness.
And know that we would have clasped upon youth vacating them from the torture of speeding mistrust..
Then fate entered the moment, Where realisations gave birth to Momentary pauses. But momemety Glares given like medusas cleaved Glaze, but the fraction of woes had past.
And like crossing a river of crocodiles, We were neither dragged beneath the Wheels of discontent or over the bonnet Of teeth lacerating upon ourselves.
We walk another day wary of those of ill patience. And lesser cognitive Reliance of the surrounding river Of tarmac and steel…