Awake

Snatch

What is snatched from where?

Your eyes are heavy.

Your lids are magnets running towards each other. 

The hours of the day wear rollerblades, hold each others hands and glide through your neurons. They split up, form tiny circles, spin out of control, regroup, disperse, in and out of rhythm. The gap between real and far away broadens. 

There’s a dog barking
There’s a cup spinning
Papers falling
Lightening striking 
Red hair
Bicycle chains moving in clockwork motion
Aero planes take off
Raindrops falling 
Which one of these did you see?
Which one of these did you smell?
Which one of these did you sense?
The gaping mouth of the abyss opens to swallow you whole. 
Except you can’t see it or taste it or feel it. And that’s why you’re not afraid. 
If you linger, the snatch becomes fun. It stays for a bit, before taking off again. 
This world or that?
This time or then? 

Catch a picture in you’re hand and watch it turn to sand. 
A sliver of a thought so fine that you have to go around it to see it. 
A sliver of a thought so fine, that your next breath chases it away. 

Snatch. 
Let it be both worlds. 
Snatch. 
Let it stay a little longer. 
Snatch. 
Let me walk that plank with my hands behind my back.
Snatch
Grab it and put it in a glass jar. 
Snatch
Slice it, dice it, inject it. 
Snatch
Let me know where you’re from. 

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Published by therunawayjuiceincident

I write about my travels. Intergalactic and otherwise....

One thought on “Awake

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