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PoetryIsLife

Senior Member

since 2001-10-27

Posts 1763
...in my boxers...

0 posted 2002-12-14 10:08 PM

The young man simply sat there, unmoving and unfeeling. Smoke softly left his bruised lips, a cigarette clasped in his fingers. As the smoke swirled around his figure, he repeated that inquiry. Again and again. He looked through the smoke of another drag as what he was surrounded by ... pathway after pathway, after pathway. To the left, to the right -- every which way. He wondered if he made a mistake. Dirt circling via indented trials, trees guiding through their beauty. If he wasn't wrong, he could've heard voices of the animal kingdom. He doubted it. His personal hell of choice would be gaseous, completely overpowered with silence. Another drag, another cigarette lit. Setting the lighter down, he returned it his hand to his breastbone, bloody from a shot to the heart, pain which surprised him. What had happened? What had gone on? Whom had he fought, he wondered, bleeding ever so quietly to death. A creature vague, a creature unique ... full of power she didn't understand. She moved through the forest, talking with the trees. She rode on fairies, perhaps was even one herself. It had been a vicious battle, one without action. He paused in his thoughts ... from there, memory began to fail him. His mind replayed without stall the image of her blending into the mist. Would she return? Was she gone? One last drag, and he stood, for he had a choice to make, for a path must be chosen to move forward. Looking down at his shirt, all he saw was a stainless white tee. Had the battle been one beyond the physical?

[This message has been edited by PoetryIsLife (12-15-2002 05:09 AM).]

Jaime

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Posts 250