= released =

a drive.

daylight twinkling down and a drive through the town. meandering along well worn streets in a din of heat, countless cymbals clash through the hot dark air. a path to a waterfall amongst it all, treading grass unused to the pressure. most don't move here, there is no path. bubbling water and buzzing wings, too tiny to see, but around and through all the same. once again along uncobbled and endless tar. around the winding of some lunatics mind. up to a place of remembrance visible by the eternal pulse of positives and negatives. what's that? rewind the tape and sit back. a lone stranger in long and wrapped up memory...arms outstretched and down, outstretched again. gestures of loss, alone along the stone. click, a memory remembered. click, the memory will be fuzzy, too far away and beyond discernable.



but the mind is sharp and recalls. moving again, through the lunatics mind, and stopping grasped by something unspoken, yet felt. the gentle padding of rythmic muscle movement is almost unconcious. maybe it is. i don't know. a plethora of emotion emerges in a confusing swell of almost tears. confusing and relieving. confusing. a slow dance with the names of the dead. a silent sweeping of the eyes and occasional clicking. the words of thinkers caught. a treasure for those who know, and a warning to those who don't. the popping of rolled death. silence. no one is listening as the he winds the paths of those before. nowhere else to go, the path leads home. memorable and remembered in its qualities commonly missed. the drive is done.