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…