Member-only story
Atone
Traffic issues and blood cells circulations, when life should start?
The teenager gingergirl nextdoor asked the coastal bush..
Dropped the wheels of hurriedness and walked on dry dead shells
To unfind what was previously imagined as the rhythm to grow old
Such vocabulary blocks to say what she wants, she crawls in words
Accidentally not accidentally chewing a cinammon stick, haaaaa
Breathing, breath-holding..
Training ears to listean and eyes to shut down, a compass f*ck directions
Nobody knows the damage caused by a close stranger, if nature permits
Why terribly she, life’s carrying a rock on shoulders dancing
The discontents of society ended up in her internal privacy, forbidden
Some authoritative blue shirt people commend but it did happen
And now ventilating sorrows, garlic tea because vempires sea breeze
There is time to live, continue walking and daydreaming of dark days
So new light could penatrate the missing cracks that suppose to bloom
A non-clichéd wave and another one, washed the crap out of her
And the close stranger was exposed under the sand, self-sh!tt!ng.
Articles, stories, essays.. and many many dry dead shells..
She prays, not for God.
Ocean sprays.
