The trip

The clock ticks and the sirens wail

Neon sign flashes on, off, on, off, on, off,

A spider scurries across my fingers

As my hand rests upon a coffee stained window sill

I’m looking out through a grimy window

At the darkening street

Looking at nothing in particular

Just gazing at the scene below

A white horse, stands in the middle of the road

Causing chaos to the traffic

Horns blaring

People staring

At the magnificent beast

One horn protrudes from the animal’s forehead

Twisted strands of gold interwoven tightly

Shining brightly, magically,

Pointing directly at me

Like time has no meaning, or relevance

We stare at each other

I am floating

I am giggling

My senses are supercharged

A human turbo

I am high

I pass through the window

Looking around at everything below me

No fear

I hear a voice

“Focus”

“Where do you want to see?”

“Where do you want to be?”

“Picture that place in your mind”

“Now go”

“Fly”

“You are free”

©paul

 

 

 

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