Camelot

Camelot

Friday, November 21, 2014

Vim

In pursuit of the shadowy illusion I believe to be real.  As real as the pen I clasp in my hand.  As real as the brown in my eyes, the thickness of my thighs.  My elated gasps turn rancid, sour as the illusive brume of my consciousness eludes me yet again.  Teeth ground to stubs of disquiet.  My arms held aloft in supplication for a sign.  Will 'the one' be forthcoming and answer my plea?  I can only wait and continue on my path, though filled with treachery and unseen dangers.  I must trudge along in pursuit, in pursuit of this force, this energy, this thing called vim.

Copyright © Allene Angelica 2014