The wind blows always
though it might not seem it
the wind is always there
however soft it may be
Not that night.
that night
the world was still
and my mind raced
with wonder and apathy.
The smoke from my cigarette,
with no wind to guide it,
hung in my face
desperately grasping at escape,
knowing it's attempts
at freedom were in vain.
I sat on my porch,
unable to bring myself
to look out into the world,
staring at the walkway.
It seemed crisp
in the dim porch light
somehow more real than
in daylight.
My observations of the
cold cement were of no significance
until a crawler came into view.
It seemed unreal
the way it just appeared
as if it had been there all along
just invisible to my eyes.
there was a moment of tension
as we both wondered
what the other was going to do next.
My cigarette was mostly ash
and I tossed it aside
now useless to me,
and left this world behind me
and could only hope
that dreams would rid me of this nightmare.
