I was on the edge of love, or death, or something otherwise momentous we can't understand yet. I think you know what I'm trying to say. Standing at the precipice of creativity, the brink of this thing I fondly call insanity.
Time was compressed, waxing and waning without a worry, without a heart to console. Was there something hidden in these images that I am not seeing?
Sure, it didn't take me long to figure out the blindness, the deafness. Took short minutes to reveal the stark difference between the cool, crystal clear waters and the dirty, broken Otherworld. But those small lapses of time have left me with long ones.
One hand swiftly being carried away in some kind of familiar bliss- untouched waters, lush, green. Vibrancy I miss tenderly.
The other hand on a cold, perspiring can of Mountain Dew. Placing it on the table next to a homeless junkie in a rundown shelter in some torn down city- trying to play Scrabble with no ears or eyes to betray him. He had no idea I was standing near, analyzing if he was worth my time.
In two places at once.
Purgatory isn't waiting, it's being split in two.