90 hours in sanity.

It was a day of greenery and fog, a vast compendium of smells normally squelched by rush and exhaust, a fractured puzzle of senses attempting to conjoin, and convey what’s 'profound' I heard a song on the radio and started bawling; the flock of geese stopped calling each stroke of their wind well-muscled wings beat, and flight ceases overhead. They’ve normalized jack hammers, and pavement, for pavement’s sake alone. Vertical or horizontal, we’re numbed to it; monotony calms us into a frenzy within. Energy eats at our core, and dies are cast to replace what existed, when we wrenched the dies our partners gave us ongoing to the concussion our parents hit us with. In a short period of time, we’d become everything they aborted, with the additional trills of what they’d only dimly imagined. The crushing finality of what can be accomplished without wrecking balls, defeats their process, for ether dreads requirements which die under the yoke of ‘horrors’ and disfigurements; to the enlightened, all events are transitory; and complainers find solace in what they choose to manifest, and therefore attach to.