gustation

If I close my eyes I can hear it rush past me.

I am surging through the days, with lists and diary entries. In the early afternoon I drink tea with the ranges. I am reminded that time crafts all worthwhile things. While my quick fix gratifications scull coffee and chain smoke ciggerettes there is a silent part that counts small things like the stars.

I tiptoe between them.

That part of me which feeds on it, scoffs it down drooling. There is a part of me that waits patiently with open palms and deep breath. My dreamscapes change focus. I am not sure of the direction yet am still scared of sitting still for too long.

Prehaps if I wouldn't have to eat so quickly if I didn't pile my plate so high.