Knowrhythm.net

Been in the country for only a couple of days, traveling with my sister.  Tonight is the first night out in the current city.  We want to get a feel for the nightlife.  Getting off the train taken from the hotel, we step onto a street of dark red bricks.  Towering ahead is the entrance to a large building, retail stores on the first floor, restaurants above that and apartments on to the top.  There are people gathered about but it does not seem to be the line to get in.  We walk inside, though a small lobby with maroon carpets and victorian couches evenly spaced from each other.  There are no doors or stairs leading to the rest of the building.  The elevators ahead are the only way up.  We step in and I look over to choose a floor.  No buttons can be seen anywhere.  There is nothing to indicate how this elevator functions.  Without any notification, the doors close and we start our ascent.  It stops shortly after, doors opening on an unknown level of the building.  We exit into a narrow hallway, looking across its shiny marble floor to the opposite end. The elevator doors close behind us once more and it leaves on another journey.  Looking back across the hall, I see a set of large double doors.  They are cream colored and of unknown material, trimmed with a dark stained wood.  There is a faint warm glow about the lighter parts.   It seems the only option we currently have is on the other side.

Closer to the end of the hallway I can hear the faint sound of music.   We walk through the doors, out onto steps leading to a terrace.  It is nighttime now, stars scattered about the sky.  While I can not see the moon, the light it reflects is illuminating things well enough.  There is a diffused quality to it as if there were a thin white sheet covering the sky.  Looking across the terrace I find its expanse incredible.  It is the biggest, elevated outdoor space I have ever seen.  Glancing down from where we stand, I notice the floor consists of large concrete slabs about six feet square.  I suppose these would continue as flooring to the opposite end of the terrace but I am unable to tell.  There currently a sea of people covering it.  The space is so densely filled with people that its even hard to make them out individually.  As they are similarly dressed, this created the resemblance of a flock of grounded birds, or some other species of herd animal.  Doesn’t seem to be any females in the herd either.  This makes me cautious of my sister for obvious reasons.

There is a band playing, past the crowd, at the edge of the terrace.  The band being the source of the music heard eariler.  Its oddly quiet out now, silent except for the sound of the wind at this height.  No noise, though band is still playing, the crowd still shuffling about.  We step out further onto the terrace to join the audience.  As we do this, the people start drawing in around us.  It is strange that while this is happening, none of them turn to look at us.  They all shift into places, as if part of one larger organism, eyes always front towards the band.  I look around and notice there is a few feet of space separating us as if shielded by an invisible force.  It takes only minutes until we are completely encircled.  Then, as the last open gap closes, there is an immediate shift in human mass.  People start to move erratically, breaking up from the larger group.  During separation there is a noticeable change in behavior.  Moving in different ways from each other, there is now an individuality to each.  Independence gained upon disconnecting from the collective.  The crowd continues to thin, people peeling away from the front where the band is.  They are all moving in the direction of the doors.  It is apparent now that they are fleeing the terrace.  There is no look of fear on their faces, only moving as if driven by some instinct.  I decide its best if my sister and I leave this place as well.

We wait a moment before returning inside.  Most of the crowd has evacuated the terrace, leaving only a small number to deal with.  Walking back inside I am surprised to see that the hallways are empty, only the remnants of the larger group scurrying around corners and through unmarked doors.  Its like someone turned the lights on and all the roaches are running to hide.  I realize now that there is an alarm, though it  is not audible to me or my sister.  This would explain the sudden and hurried withdraw of the others.  I take her hand and start searching for an exit.  I see figures standing in front of the elevators we arrived in.  Just ahead are two, rather large, well dressed, barrel chested men.  Imagine if someone took a couple of gorillas, shaved them, put them in tuxedos and made them stand upright.  There is no movement from either of them as we advance.  I attempt to call for the elevator but again no buttons, switches or levers can be found.   It also seems they are not currently inservice.  I look back to the suits and still nothing.  They stand perfectly still, as if purely decoration.  I don’t bother asking them about the elevators as I speculate I would get no response.

We backtrack and try another way out.  There are other doors but so far they have all been locked.  Finally we come upon a door in the distance with a green exit sign overhead.  Accompanying the door at the end of the hallway are two more of the gorilla men.  These being no different from the first pair, motionless as we approach.  I open the door only to be greeted by more men in suits about twenty feet in.  These look more like special agents, earpieces and sunglasses, rather than the primates flanking the doors.  Aware of our presence now, the agents press towards us, arms forward, directing us to turn around and find another way.  I have no idea what was on the other side of the agents but it must be either A. Dangerous, or B.Fragile.  There is quite a few of them and we go back out into the hallway before they can get close enough to be forceful.  The door closes behind us, the agents dont follow.  We search a few more places until finally coming across another exit.  Not much thought given this time to the missing links as we pass between them and through the door.

I think we have stepped into an M.C. Escher illustration.  My sister and I are now standing in what looks to be the most poorly planned stairway ever created.  There is a maze of steps leading nowhere, metal scaffolds, ramps and railings going in every direction.  On second thought, Escher was much more logical than this.  Closer inspection reveals there is a somewhat noticeable path, though it is hidden within the chaos of the engineering nightmare.  After quite some time, acrobatics and a great deal of profanity, we finally reach the ground floor.  Through the exit door into the main building from the stairwell, we entered into a dark retail space.  Sheets over the tables and racks of merchandise.  The lights are off.  Through large panes of glass on the storefront, Blue street lamps provide the only source of light.  Needless to say, this creates an ominous atmosphere, feeling less welcome by the minute.  I reach back for my sister and we find our way outside onto the streets.

There is still ample light from the moon and the street lamps as we head back to the trains.  I look back to the building, relived to be in the open air once again.  There are others along the platform, some sitting, some standing.  They are all occupied in their own conversations or personal entertainments.  Further down, riding along the edge, there are a couple of kids on skateboards.  After a prolonged wait the train finally arrives.  As it pulls to a stop in front of us we realize we are on the wrong side of the platform.  This is the train we arrived on.  I watch the people get on, off, wondering if they are going to the building we just left.  The train continues on down the line and I can see the other side of the tracks again.  There is no apparent way to get across from where we are, however there is a crosswalk at the far end of the platform.

We casually stroll down the sidewalk, further away from the station ledge, passing the random individuals, couples and smaller groups.  About halfway from where we started, we come upon the skateboarders.  No longer riding the edge of the platform, they have dropped down onto the tracks.  Wondering how they are able to ride there, I step closer and it becomes visible that the entire railway is a half pipe of sorts.  Its as if the top half of a giant concrete tube was cut off, tracks recessed into the smooth surface.  This is obviously perfect for the boarders.  I watch them as we walk by, riding back and forth across the tracks, performing tricks.  One in particular is launching from the sides much higher than the rest.  The next time he is airborne I catch a glimpse of his skateboard.  It resembles a giant boomerang with wheels, aerodynamics allowing for the increased lift.  The rider is also holding a handle attached to a long black rope, much like that used by a waterskier pulled by a boat.  The rope functions in the same way, as the other end is tied to a motorcycle, hidden from view previously.  Looks like a lot of fun, ill have to try it sometime.  The skaters ride off, continuing in the other direction as my sister and I finally reach the crosswalk.  Now on the correct side, there is only a short wait until our train arrives.

As the door opens and we step through the threshold, I am left standing alone, my sister vanishing behind me.  There are some people in the car, the group closest to me talking about their current trip.  They are going to the airport and while it becomes apparent the train also terminates there, I know thats not my stop.  I find an empty seat next to a window, across from another traveller.  I look up to see that it is an old childhood friend of mine.  After a quick hello I discover that he too is on his way to the airport.  “Im going to pick up my daughter” he tells me.  It seems curious to me as to why he would be getting his daughter while traveling in a foreign country.  He doesn’t seem to make any big deal of it one way or another.  “Where you headed?” he asks.  “Im not quite sure at the moment.” I tell him.  “I was hoping to stop by my hotel room to get my stuff, but I don’t think this train is stopping there.  I guess ill just check out another country near by.  Wander around for a bit.”  My friend nods in acknowledgement, adjusting his posture slightly, turning to the window.  “Id go with you” he says, “but I gotta get my lil’ girl.”  I nod in acknowledgement.

I follow his gaze through the window and see that it is now early in the morning, sun having just risen moments before.  The sky is heavy with clouds, softening the sunlight, air outside cold and damp.  Crops of bush like, green plants can be seen on either side of the train as it speeds through the fields.  At the current velocity I am unable to tell what exactly the plants are.  There are a few buildings littered about the landscape, the size of large office buildings or apartments about twenty floors in height.  Normally this would seem of place for farmland but they are few, far apart and unobtrusive to the surrounding environment.  It is calming to watch the a subtle rhythm of the buildings and crops as they pass by the window in sequence.  I take in the countryside for a while, thinking about my next destination, my friend and his daughter.

I decide to keep him company until he has her in his care.

2009.10.19

I find myself wandering through a lush tropical jungle.  It is thick with trees and plants of familiar and unfamiliar species.  I stop for a moment to take in my surroundings. Piercing through the canopy, the sun creates dancing a fans of light.  It looks as if there is netting of bright orange rays covering everything, yet this does not detract from the rich green of the leaves.  These leaves, of varied shapes and sizes, create a dense wall in every direction from where I stand.  Content with the natural light show, I resume my trek through the jungle at a casual hiking pace.  I do not recall how I arrived in this place, only that I am here in search of inspiration.

The air is warm and heavy with humidity.  I take a deep breath.  As I fill my lungs, my feet loose contact with the ground.  There is no sensation of falling or rising.  I find that the air is so thick I am able to float through it, hovering slightly over the jungle floor.  This does not hinder my momentum in any way, so I continue on, digging my way through the seemingly endless collection of plants.  I am still unsure as to the location of the inspiration, but there is a definite sense of direction guiding me.  I sense as if on some invisible path.  There might in actuality have been a trail worn in this place at some point in the ancient past.  It is however obvious that it has long since grown over without a trace.

After a short time I finally reach a point in the jungle where the plants grow less entwined.  This eventually leads out into a very small clearing, almost rectangular in shape.  Still hovering above the ground, I take a minute to rest.  As I glance around I notice a small building to my right.  Turning to face it directly, it seems as if my vision has become blurred.  The building has a slight, vaporous shimmer to it.  Getting closer, I can now see that my vision is not blurred.  The building is made of glass, the reflecting light creates the illusion.  It is apparently a greenhouse of some fashion.  I decide to go in.

Upon entering I notice an immediate change in the atmosphere.  It is much cooler than outside, but still warm with only subtle a humidity.  While the air is now crisp and light, I am somehow more buoyant than before.  I find that this allows me not only to float, but flight now as well.  This new ability I am able to maintain with increased speed and accuracy.  This is hindered somewhat by the confines of the building, but it is large enough for me to move with ease.  There are a few rooms, all with tall glass ceilings, sunlight still leaking though the breaks in the canopy outside.   Each of them are separated by sliding glass doors, partially frosted, faintly glowing with a turquoise/white illumination.  They are all connected to a hub room that I now occupy.  Most of the doors are closed or only halfway open, all but one.  Past the only set of doors fully open, I see something waving in the distance.  I fly curiously over to the source of the movement.

As I enter the next room the doors begin to close behind me, stopping before completely sealing.  I turn back to the far wall and see that the strange billowing shapes I saw before are more plants.  They resemble pitcher plants but do not stand upright.  These plants ripple horizontally as if blown by some unseen and unfelt wind, much like ribbons in front of a fan.  They flow slowly and organically like long vines of seaweed in an ocean current or a length of sheer fabric being pulled underwater.  Given their close proximity to the wall and the light radiating from the glass, the plants cast shadows.  The black shapes resemble the plants though much darker in color, like translucent black silk.  While they are shadows, they do not move in exactly the same way as the plants casting them.  They seem to occupy a slightly different phase.  I watch for some time as the pitcher plants dance about with their shadow partners.  Experiencing this gives me a profound sense of comfort and freedom.  It simplicity is borderline hypnotic.  What I am witnessing is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.  I have a strong sense that this is the source inspiration I was looking for, or perhaps part of it.

There is quite a bit of space in this room, though currently the undulating pitcher plants occupy all of my visual interest.  Its not until I hear what sounds to be like the calls of distant birds do I avert my attention to the rest of the vicinity.  I spin around and first see a large tree trunk in the center of the room.  It is growing naturally from the floor and on through the roof as if the room was constructed around it.  No leaves or branches can be seen.  It must be a very tall tree.  I look down to the base again and I find the source of the sounds heard earlier.  It is in fact birds but strangely they seem to be sleeping.  Their calls are no longer audible.  They are quite small, iridescent blue in color and there are many of them.  The way they are scattered about, the floor resembles a patchy blue carpet.  I realize now that the structure I am in, or this section of it, is not a greenhouse.  I an in an aviary.  I fly over to and circle around the tree a few times.  As I do this I casually take in the rest of the room.  I stay far enough above the ground as to not disturb the birds.  Finished with my survey, I look for a place to land.  I notice that one of the birds is much larger than the rest.  This particular one is also awake and hopping about a moss covered log, made of damp, gray stone.  It looks back to me with caution, as if to say “careful not to wake the others”.  I lower myself to the ground, some distance from the rest  of the sleeping birds, halfway between them and the wall with the pitcher plants.  The larger bird nods in approval, thankful for respecting its wishes.

I hear more sounds again, this time like a rustling of dry grass.  I look back to the pitcher plants, still cycling through their wavelike patterns.  The sound seems to be emanating from them, though previously their movements silent.  I walk closer, this time able to reach out and touch them.  The tactile nature of them a thin fabric composed of slick plant matter, much like a snake skin with no scales.  I have to make some effort to actually touch them.  As my hands move closer to their surface, they slowly and fluidly start to repel, curving around the shape of my hand, continuing their rhythmic waving.  Its much like reaching to grab something underwater, the mass of your hand pushing through the water, which in turn pushes the object you were reaching for slightly out of the way.  As I reach again, just before making contact, a red blur shoots out from the end of the plant.  Something was apparently housed within one of the pitchers.  The red blur slows down slightly after traveling some distance and starts on a return trajectory.  The noise was definitely being produced by this thing and the sound gets much louder as it gets closer to me.  I can see now that it is a red bird, shaped like a hawk with a few long tail feathers.  This looks to me like of the phoenix of legends.  I hold my arm out as it flies directly towards me.  It lands on the fold of my hand and I am able to see it in more detail.  The phoenix is made of a brilliant red paper, folded into its shape, like an intricate piece of origami.  It has the weight of an animal its size.  Where there would be layers of soft feathers are only the geometric shapes of the folds.  Its tail feathers are in strips, long, angular and segmented.  I see that these particular feathers are the cause the rustling, snapping sound as they trail behind the bird in flight.  There are also gold leaf symbols of unknown origin flecked about its body.  These glimmer brightly when light is reflected off them at certain angles.

The phoenix sits perfectly still for a few moments as I examine it.  It remains this way until I move the arm it is perched on.  As I flick my wrist slightly it flies away and quickly returns, this time flying to my other arm.  As it does this it passes over the top of my arm and curves back under.  I lift my other arm as it comes back up over it, only to curve back under again.  It continues this figure eight motion a couple of times until I shift positioning of my arms.  As soon as I move my arms the birds flight pattern changes, as does its speed.  Creating circular motions with my hands or linear sweeps with my arms, the bird flows with me in its flight, mimicking somewhat.  Its almost as if there is a tether attaching my hands to the bird,  some kind of magnetic force pushing and pulling in perfect sync.  I slow my motions down and the phoenix does the same, still following the direction of my hands.  I look to the phoenix, to my hands, arms and its current rhythm.  I notice it is now similar to that of the pitcher plants in some aspect.

I look towards the entrance doors again and become aware of some people watching from the other side of the glass.  There is a man and a woman looking over occasionally and conversing with each other on what they see.  I do not know what they speak of and it is not apparent from their demeanor wether it is good or bad.  They remain quite stoic as they watch.  I decide to pay no more attention to them as I return to the performance with the phoenix.

I am shocked momentarily as soon as I look back.   As my focus returns to the phoenix, it immediately darts quickly horizontally and begins to elongate its form.  In the space of a second it has shifted into a composite wooden/metal staff roughly six feet in length.  The wooden part a similar red to the bird, though less brilliant.  It falls from where it was transformed and comes to rest in my upturned palms.  There is a faint heat produced as I handle the wooden areas, metallic parts slightly cool to the touch.  The staff is natural to me, like an extension of my arms.  I resume the motions I was doing before and then slip effortlessly into what can be described as a weapons form, much like you would see from a skilled martial artist.  This is all so familiar to me, though I cannot remember any training with weapons at any previous time.  Everything flows organically, like the pitcher plants, like the phoenix with my arms, powerful and precise.  I have become immersed in an intricately choreographed dance.  In mid-form, I slide my hands down the staff, pushing against some of the metallic sections.  One of the pieces begins to slide and the clicks into place.  As this happens a small explosion is produced from the end of the staff, like that of a blast from a shotgun.  Apparently it is hollow on its ends.  From the explosion the phoenix appears again, flying out like a projectile at extremely high speed, only to return, disappearing into the hollow end again.  I follow its inertia and move along a linear path thrusting the staff in the opposite direction.  This time the phoenix exploding from the other end in a shower of red and gold confetti, swirling and reforming into its whole self before returning to the housing of the staff.  I slide my hands down the metal sections again, moving different pieces into different places.  The staff resembles a puzzle of sorts, or perhaps an instrument with hidden switches and buttons.  Various configurations of the metal produces various results with the bird.  This form continues for a few more minutes until I am satisfied with its completion.  I come to rest standing upright, feet planed firmly on the ground, staff in hand at my side.

I feel utterly inspired.

2009.10.14

There has been a crime, a murder.

The circumstances and details surrounding the investigation I am not completely clear of.  There are only two things that I am certain of.  I am a prime suspect and I am innocent.  Ultimately, all the evidence that has been gathered will find me to be guilty.  This is unfortunate but I don’t despair.  I have information that the evidence is being kept in one place.  It is in a locker, within a private residence.  The investigative team has apparently set up a base of operations there.

From some distance away I approach the house on foot.  Strangely, I come to discover that the residence is that of a woman I have known for the entirety of my life.  This familiarity with the property and home makes it easy to enter unnoticed.  It also helps that the investigators have temporarily left.  Walking silently around through home I move in a deliberate fashion to the second floor.  After a few doors I find the room containing the lockers.  I carefully close the door behind me and allow my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the low light.

The room is small and cluttered, cabinets and tables poorly arranged, various papers strewn about.  I see my objective in the far corner, six lockers stacked two high.  I move over to them and begin to pry at the thin metal latches.  They are of course locked, but only trivially so.  I manage to open them without much effort.  So far things are going without incident, but my hands are sweating and I notice my heart rate is elevated slightly.  I put this out of my focus as I start through the evidence.  There isn’t as much as I was expecting, a few small boxes, some tapes, all falsely condemning.  I take the entirety of it and put it into the shoulder bag I brought with me.  This bag and evidence now contained will eventually be burned in a remote area, though I cannot say where.  I also decide to take the contents of the other lockers, just to be thorough.

With everything gathered up I begin wiping down the surface of the lockers and removing all traces of my involvement.  My work finished I exit the room, closing the door quietly as I entered, and start down the stairs to the first floor.  Suddenly the owner of the home returns.  There is no way for me to get out undetected so I make my presence known.  She is not startled or surprised to see me.  Having known her all my life there is certainly a lot of familiarity, but I did not inform her that I would be there.  It seems as if I was almost expected.  She immediately enters into conversation with me.  Im not sure why, but I dismiss all prior urgency to leave before the investigators return.  I don’t think to ask her on the matter of why the investigation has set up office in her home.

We talk for a while.

The conversation ends around the area of a recent purchase made.  She tells me about her new bike and how it was bought on sale.  This is curious as I know she cannot actually ride it due to physical limitations.  I ask why she would buy a bike if she cant use it and she is unable to give any logical answer other than that it was wanted.  Oddly convenient on my behalf.

We go outside and I walk around to the back of the house with her to have a look at the bike.  It seems to be in perfect working order and without any dispute I am able to borrow it from her.  She seems to think its what she bought it for anyways.  We say our parting words as I gather my things and prepare to leave.  I ride off, faulty evidence in bag, innocence retained.

I now task myself with the mission to find those truly guilty.

I don’t think this will take long.

2009.10.12

I join the hunt already in progress as my friend hands me a large compound bow.  I look around at the expansive forest, housed within the belly of an enormous aircraft.  We continue deeper into the woods in search of our prey.  My friend spots a young one and takes aim, delivering a fatal shot to its neck.  The animal freezes instantly on impact, its body turning to a semi-gloss, hollow plastic shell.  We look to each other, a little surprised at the resulting trophy of yard art, complete with wooden base.  It was a fantastic shot nonetheless.  The mother appears now, though she is much more fortunate.  I take my shot but miss its mark by only a few feet.  As she bolts away I start to quickly lose interest in the hunt.  We decide to go to a party instead, leaving the plastic deer and our equipment behind.

We walk over a few steps to a metal staircase which previously was nowhere to be seen in the thick wall of trees.  The steps take us to a clothing store platform, high above the forest canopy.  Didn’t seem proper to go to a party wearing hunting clothes smelling of fresh phase shifting plastic deer kills.  I find a silk jacket on one of the many racks, white with rich gold embroidery.  There is a sound in the distance.  The hanger doors of the aircraft start to open, splitting the forest in half to reveal turbulent sky.  Trees standing sideways now where the part of the forest was attached to the doors, similar to a miniature train set town being unhinged and separated.  I look over to my friend and hand him the jacket I found (he liked it better anyways).  I walk to the balcony of the shop, give a wave goodbye and jump over the edge.

I drop slowly at first, as if falling through water, given much time to view the environment.  I can see the entirety of the inside of the aircraft and the forest as it terminates against its side walls.   Moving faster now, after a few hundred feet I am finally closer to the floor and pass through the remains of the forest.  Falling now through the hangar doors and outside into the atmosphere I can see the earth visible below.  I look back briefly to see the hangar doors closing as the plane rapidly speeds away from me.  I turn around and resume the dive.  This lasts for a very short time and abruptly ends as I land naked, “SPLASH”, in the pool of of a 1950′s motel.  Im guessing my clothes were torn off some time during the descent as I reached terminal velocity.

Completely dry now as I get out of the water, I look around the grounds.  The first thing noticed is the motel is in serious need of some landscaping.  Pretty much just motel and concrete, extremely boring.  Turning back to the pool it now seems to have been magically filled in with a fresh lawn and a lone wooden table.  An improvement, though only a slight one.  I decide now would be a good time to find my room at this place.  I happen upon a small towel, barely large enough to cover my waist as I continue down the hallway.  No one else is around and it seems that I am the only guest currently at the motel.  This is good news as I think it would be a little awkward to be seen walking around the halls with nothing but a hand towel to cover my business.

I look to the numbers on the doors as I pass.  There are quite a few until I arrive at my room.  I know its mine since strangely, its the only one without numbers.  Room #_ _ _.  The door sticks a little but finally opens after some persuasion.  Another friend of mine is waiting inside.  She is in a white bathrobe, apparently just back from a swim herself.  I didn’t bother to ask what plane she fell from.  I have a quick glance around at the unfamiliar surroundings.  Standard fare as far as motels go, about as impressive as the outside.  The curtains have been drawn and we sit with each other in the dimly lit room.  I say that now might be a good time to get some sleep.  “Good idea” she says.  She smiles and reaches for the television to watch a movie.  As she switches it on, “CLICK”, the room goes bright white and then darkness.  I cant see anything.  As my vision returns I notice a different room now, though hardly any light just as the one before, my friend no longer with me.

This room I am very familiar with.

2009.10.11

In between small buildings set in careful rows.
Painted white like teeth in a crocodile smile.

There was a strange sound carried down the hall.
Low rumble carried on loose rocky floors.

Guided by deliberate calls pulling from invisible rails
Precise in approach to the unsuspecting black screen door.

Welcome to the show.
Welcome to overnight puzzle.

Standing in the confines projecting perception.
Laboring against the pressed up recognition.

Looking across faces of colorblind walls.
Knowing them all from altered linear times.

Felling needs for thought feathered introductions.
Growing from habitual entangled schemes.

Instruments role play the wounded on the ground.
Fallen to wayside attempts at leisured compose.

Waiting for someone.
Waiting for something.

Eyes blanketed with difficult summons.
Reveling cavalcade requesting adverse expression.

Wandering daydreams of subtle displacement.
Refusing the full body questioned approval.

Nothing left of feeling.
Nothing left of interest.

2009.10.10

Welcome to the show,
Laborious cognize,
Where I am,
Stand inside.

Looking at the faces,
Walls of color blind,
Known them all,
Altered time.

No introductions,
Felled to need,
Grown habitual entangled schemes.

Instruments role playing the wounded.
Fallen to the ground,
Waiting for someone,
Waiting for something.

Eyes procession,
With requests,
Revel songs to the cavalcade.

Can there be a subtle removement,
Can they be refused, everyone.
I dont feel it.
I wont stay long.

2009.10.10