This May Evolve Into Something

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Running. Feet padding pavement, but nearly not. Of course it hasn't actually, but time has stopped—accelerated and slowed at the same time. Like a train acheving traction on ice now careening, brakes sparking and screaming. Still moving forward.

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Government. Job. Others. All seem to oppress. We talk about it. All the time, us. But we also don't pay attention. We've resigned to facts on which we've performed surgery. Possibly due to incompetence, we've now injected puss into them. We've marred them with our cynicism syringe. We've got grand plans to examine, understand and repair. No one is more intelligent, better adjusted or more aware than us. No one comprehends as we do. We do not respect previous generations. We are precious and unique.

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A bridge toppled into a river. You couldn't get a call into any of the area's area codes. The cell-phone companies' infrastructure couldn't shoulder the barrage.

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It's funny how a person can be whisked away from you. That person ends and immediately after you're informed of that fact, it was meant to happen like that. The person is no longer a being so much as a period of time. People say people live on in your heart, but people would have to "live" in your mind because that's the organ with which we experience memories. But even then, memories are of a certain length. A memory is a recollection of an event or a series of events that took place earlier on.

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Teleological. Logical movement toward its end. Of course it is in the last place you look. Of course you, "knew it was under there." Just like you knew it was under every other thing you picked up and once you were informed of its absence; it was meant to be like that.

Periods of time and absence. You are angry for a period of time until that emotion is replaced by this emotion. Despite its replacement, the original emotion remains absent.