The walk swallowed the energy that I had left from shedding all of my troubles into the water. I felt them float around me like thick flakes, and they followed the bubbles from my mouth. It was not that kind of day, when my muscles would still work against needle sharp aches and continue to hoot with the percussionist in my head.
Some of the percussions reroute the firing of synapses, yet I constantly ask myself of the faults that appear out of nowhere.
Now the band, that resides in the middle of my mind, hails this barbaric percussionist, solely because it is able to make me collapse at the sight of greater minds. That is when I find myself hammering my skull, and perhaps wait for it to crack. I know this player is afraid of crevices, so I decided to sit under the running of vehicles by the neighbourhood. I prayed to the intense solitariness that crawled under the walls of my flesh, that it should be done and cemented before I begin to shake from all of its experiments.