inhaling

The world is always spinning and it is like a treadmill. It's just that we don't feel the tiresome work of our knees. Is the world too slow for me? I ran onto the road; getting drenched in the untimely rains and hail. The shores of the Bay are boiling and sinking, an alternate balance. A blue hand descends upon my head and the road just keeps growing. It presses down my head till my neck and shoulders hurt. I love the fact that I do not know where I am going. Would rather have a body very close to me, whispering into my ears, ruffling my hair, and laughing. I would rather smoke just rises all around my feet, engulfs my knees, hips, breasts, neck, and face. Tendrils of hair fly about and wait to be caught in between fingers. The smoke has clouded my vision. I sit down in one of the most peaceful falls, a trance seeps into my head, tears open meshes, and meditation sets in.