As the silky warmth of saturation rolls up my spine, the crisp coolness and hard serrated contrast tingles my fingers to the touch. The wonder of arcane mysticism floods my mind as I submerged my palm in the puddle of water. My thoughts surge back to the concrete fluidity of that fateful evening in the December of '98.
Peach tinted cotton clouds jotted the soaring vast cyan expanse as the sea flew out far beyond the horizon. The glorious evening star was tucking itself to sleep beneath its brown duvet as its long forgotten father creeps up behind the shame of its former glory to illuminate the ineluctable dark. As the toddler of youth opened his eyes, he saw the miracle of innocence drift away with the wind, to hide its face from the treachery of immorality.
Nostalgia overwhelms me as the faithful degradation of memory takes over. Blaring surrealism vanquishes the blossom of reality. Downpour was but a history of the dawn, as the strung out heaven tears cascaded from high, down to stain the ground.
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