Members distance21 Posted July 19, 2016 Members Share Posted July 19, 2016 it’s a cold april morning. the sounds of the rainfall amplify atop the crumbling puddles, but the animals can not be heard, as they are being drowned out by the elements. a lingering taste of stomach acid mixed with coffee coats the back of your tongue, as your insides burn and your brain slowly decays. this is the machinery that we have been given. a mechanism that has been mishandled and has performed without instruction. a suit of organs and fluids that has no chance of outlasting the average, or withstanding the inevitable. the running joke of life is that it’s over before you know it. first the laughter tapers off, then the movement ceases.. then there you are. still. on a cold april morning, with the sounds of life escaping your window. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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