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Mike_Ike111Member Since 06 Jan 2008
Offline Last Active Sep 08 2011 01:33 PM
I'm floating up, towards what telescopes and brainiacs call the distant future, in the midst of abyssal protrusion and the place where sound waves and light take off their chains and walk free from their duties. It seems as though this debauchery is more than just the wake of a new beginning, as it is the end to something that hasn't happened yet. A wasteful expenditure, or dissipation if you will, has been taken into account when looking into this happening. I've taken off from the moon to reality, though at a cost of my own equilibrium, however with a slight accustomed nod of the head I've found myself swaying and swooning to the galactic space waves, between once upon a time and this time is now.
I am lifted in space, floating towards the earth as I drift by satellites and space ships. I can see the every day people as they head to work and drive their cars and pull their ropes and push their buttons. They are little specks of nothing, scurrying across the land they live by, all the way to their little ticky tacky houses. A simple breeze could meander across the earthen crust and each and ever speck would be swooped out from their houses and jobs and lives, and then there would be nothing, as nothing was seconds before.
I am floating in space, just minutes from hitting the O-Zone's corruption and pollution, as I break into the thick smug, an intrusion into gravitational pull. It's seen through the ages, that falling down is not the hardest part when looking into the future's anticipation. The truth is, falling down is not as hard as knowing the earth you are about to hit is still so far away. I'm watching the earth and the people as I fall to the floor. It's as though I'm in slow motion, and everything that is happening is black and white, on a paper back flip book being flipped too slow. I can hear the pages as they turn and scrape against the dead skin celled finger. Each ripple of the finger print's groove touch the edge of the paper, and the page collides with the next.
The earth is waiting for me to smash into it's outer shell; it's watching me with it's gaze. A hundred million eyes follow my body, as my clothes rip and tear off and my skin heats up, and with my eyes shut I make my descent. I press out of the clouds with a trail of white fluff leading my stale body towards the planet. I'm seconds from impact, however a life time of eternity from hitting the earth. I wrap my arms around my chest and close my legs straight, and with my head first I fall. Falling and falling and falling; waiting for reality.
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