i steadily stand atop an unstable pillar. a crowd of familiar faces i have never seen before stares up to me. i jump to the next. descending, they mark me like eagles perched from below, but how is this so?
blurry clouds of ash and fog distill my flailing arms, smudging them into the borders of this shaky frame. still, it remains still in my head - the only one i possess. placed on this feathery casket, i intend to mold these wings into a grave.
i like this place of constant contradiction where questions are statements that i wish yielded better answers. these talons ask everything of me. they pierce through conception, but distort nothing.
crazy is in the mind of the beholder.
- Alexander McCurdy