Oscilation

Up it goes and down it comes....

HUH! Time to go, it's time, what's the time?... It has become a monstrous fight against windmills. How much can I take? It never stops, it never speaks, it never does anything useful. It flows, it floods, it terrifies, it is itself. It eats your food, it drinks you fluids, it... leaves you dim.
I've had enough trying to maintain the course with it. In real life, it's motagne-russe combined with a mary-go-round. It halts suddenly and it starts at lightspeed. It is the self-imposed boundary between the real world and our own universes. I never slows down in reality, but it becomes pietrified in everyone's universe. It doesn't let you confuse ideas with palpable objects... It was born before there was light and it was the mother and the father of life, the ultimate sirendipity, and all that has come with it.
On the other hand, my notion of time has never been more blended like now. Eventhough it dellusionates me with a pure LANDSCAPE OF THE BOTTOM OF MY SOUL, I just know the mist and dirt on it. It makes me feel hollow inside and it suffocates my sensitivity and ability to see the beauty of everything. But at times, the dirt engraves it. Now it is one of those moments. And I am a tempst.
Can anybody stop us?...