The Collapse of Mechanical Pieces

Upsetting the sky, I’m breaking up with the time and I can finally breathe without the ticking time bomb of all that is irrelevant pulling me into a state of relevancy. Freedom, obtainable and lovable but so feared. Fear, scary and rushed but ultimately empowering. Power. I have the strength and the sky is reaching down to me here, in the dirt, with a handful of stars and a lipstick smear of the most excellent shade finally I am blushing with escaping moments of everything that had me frightened. The shackles are now a modern affair of couture that I will wear like a cross, and not for faith or for this Gothic apparel flare but for the ever reminder of what I am no longer apart of. Breathing. The rise and fall of my clothing to remind me of the mechanics that are inside of be, that make me up and build me up and I am this machine of live. A production of instrumental activities; the blink of an eye playing fluttering sounds to my symphonies, and heart strings I am pulling, a selfish notion creating hiccups of questions to an imaginative playground and footsteps become the percussion of all the little voices who encouraged and discouraged. A human aspect to a less human place where there is a sudden enlightenment, not enlightening anything, actually weighing done the whole existence of whatever is existing. Stop merely existing and live. Live this life for whatever is to come when the darkness closes in might be merely a reboot or perhaps that is all. Curtain closed. No applaud. No laughter. No encore. The collapse of mechanical pieces and the final beep of electronic existence.