Push Test

The trailer at times is more appealing than the movie. When your best place is also your worst nightmare. When your sweet dreams happen in a demon chasing venue. When the light gets blocked out by the darkness in you. Tears are too hot and all that is left is acid burns on your cheeks. They’re too much that they regular number eleven ain’t possible to bring up. Ain’t sure if it’s melancholy or despondency but the surety in the matter dictates that it’s pure hurt. The world expects your lips to be a constant convex not knowing that the ride is low on fuel. The battery is fully drained, jump-starting is in vain a new heart is desired. Hidden from the world are greatest treasures and wounded souls, no one wants the unpolished diamond. That doesn’t mean that the value is any less just means no one wants to work on the finished product. A Mona Lisa stored in the Pandora’s box. The pain is a little less than a mother in labor but a little more than a bullet wound in the head, the only problem is it never goes away. There a million triggers and infinity reminders of how bad it is and trillion agents picking on the scab every time it tries to heal. It’s not infected yet because a little vodka is used to cauterize the wounds. The mind is alert but foggy. Everything looks like a James bond movie sex, fight, power only that in this case it’s powerful sex because of a lost fight. Fast short steps ain’t effective no more crawling is the ambulatory strategy.



Catherine Anne


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