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Inter-Dimension
I'm the version of you that didn't break.
Didn't shatter into useless pieces, broken haggardly upon the floor.
I can feel you,
See you,
Hear you,
Smell you sulking in the wind.
Battered and bellowing upon the breeze.
Like plastic.
Caustic and cautious.
Remember me.
The one who can.
He whose inter-dimensional echoes threaten the lands of great things.
Participating.
Standing place upon the influenza.
Making useful moments marry the past with change.
You, on the other hand,
Will wilt.
Without the grace of floral decadence.
Simply melt without having been to begin with.
And then you'll know what it means to suffer.
Copyright ©
B. Joseph Fitzsimons
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