that day

©Duncan Hall

when the world spins faster to the pace of the just cant stand anymore and balance seems as though its the only unattainable thing, the noise of that one thing you really want to hear goes silent, listless, quiet, in its lackluster deafness of this imagined finale that lies between that which you thought you knew and that which is spoken.  the lies that emanate behind the hidden intentions of the  almost thought truth and there are those words again that sound like the music but feel like the swords that cut so permanently that withstanding the blow becomes this never ending chore, task, challenge and necessity.  self indulged and proposed necessity.  the once thought feasible feat eats and twists in its tormenting tornado volcano of an eruption of never ending ash.  the scorched and burnt falling towards the earth or what remains of the torched flesh and embers float amongst the cool breeze of the stifled wind.  choked and smothered, yet still marching ahead.  the path covered in dirt and grim leads to the cacophonous end