Frenzied tadpoles swarm around murky rocks as driftwood floats apathetic on the surface and the water gently pulses giving life to all the brown colored landscape beneath
I sit on a jabbing hot stone in the middle of the grass on the edge of reality, on the edge of where land meets sea and I am in between things in this life and that one
The sun beats down on my back smacking me with heat all hot and red - all the while motors hum buzz drive by in a constant whir and I sit still the only thing moving is this life all around me
And I am a trespasser on these grounds I sneak by and move towards the water I sit with the stolen breeze tickling my face and dream of staying still moving forward is too scary at times
the stillness comforts me into a slow deep daydream of a life gone by without the harsh movement of reality gripping me throwing me down a hill faster all the time
I am a whirring truck speeding toward my end but for now in this moment I am still and nothing moves me except the breeze across my face, across my memories and dreams
I am still and going nowhere and the trucks whir by and I go nowhere at least for this moment, I sit still and breathe and let time pass without me and the clouds shift change constantly and I am here on this rock on the edge of this world and that one.
-Notes From A Trespasser ^____^
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