(no subject)
Oct. 25th, 2009 09:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
my_window_seatThe sky is an up-ended glass bowl packed loosely with cotton and a mad photographer is having a photo-shoot just out of sight. There's a tightly-packed stand of trees across the street, and every so often, branches of lightning strafe out from the sides and the top as though electricity is branching straight from the ground and escaping into the sky.
The pleasure-centers of my brain have been beaten and blunted over the last few months from too much unexpected worry and near-terror, but the crazy grin tugging at the sides of my mouth says that there's still enough instinctual appreciation somewhere in me that there's still some hope. For something. I don't know what. But something.
This isn't the work of some megalomaniacal attention-seeking sky kaiser. It's nature ripping itself apart for the sheer joy of it.
Live like you could be struck by lightning at any moment. Because man, what a way to go.
The pleasure-centers of my brain have been beaten and blunted over the last few months from too much unexpected worry and near-terror, but the crazy grin tugging at the sides of my mouth says that there's still enough instinctual appreciation somewhere in me that there's still some hope. For something. I don't know what. But something.
This isn't the work of some megalomaniacal attention-seeking sky kaiser. It's nature ripping itself apart for the sheer joy of it.
Live like you could be struck by lightning at any moment. Because man, what a way to go.
