MADE OF EARTH

I cant quite catch the thought, that is twirling around in my head. It feels as if, its just out of reach.. floating just beyond my brow line. when i concentrate really hard, i cant place a single point on in. As if it senses me, trying to grab it by the tail and hold it down. It races faster, until the thought doesnt feel like a thought anymore. It spirals. Alive. A whirlwind, down behind my ears, tickling the follicles that hold my sideburns to my head. It trickles down the small space between my spine and esophagus,  until it reaches my heart. It flutters, racing as fast as it can. Pulling at the veins that enclose my pulsating blood under my skin. Bitter, as is drips into my stomach. The air in my lungs becomes poison. Unsafe to stay inside it blows out and i suck, fast to refill it with something usable, something i can swallow. But I cant. Pinching the tiny hairs on my ankles and clenching my toes and fists. Things go dark, or blurry, i cant quite tell. 

photographer: cristina gareau

deluge is coming