Airless and careless. Deep deep down where three grand canyons balance upon sixteen eiffel towers that sway in the ebb and flow and don't reach near to the gasping surface of wind and spray and salt and foam. Onwards and onwards in the airless careless deep. The hazy creeping colours and hues of turquoise or tortoise shell or pure salt Keep moving forwards, kicking and treading shuddering and halting and spinning yet moving onward onwards no falling only floating rising in despair and downfall it fills everything it is the air it is the light and touch and sound no longer carressing, pressing in in in in the airless careless deep.
a poem ***
Created: Mar 28, 2014HowFantastical Document Media