On The Precipice

Standing there on the precipice in the dark a feeling of floating, staring down at the dirty city. Lights glowing like beacons calling those that linger longer then they should.

The grey stones, everywhere with their varying shades of that which is neither white nor black, warm and cold at the same time.

Am I really here or am I imagining it? Or is someone else imagining it? Questions flow through with no beginning and no end.

There is no purpose, no purpose, no purpose. This keeps running through my mind like a video loop.

Did the “who said of the greatest magnitude” forget to come back from a coffee break?

A chill runs through me as though it were a living thing warning me to settle back to earth before memories of a time unable to fly catch up to me.

Are those clouds that I pass through or times in my past that are not clearly remembered?

Feelings accompany my thoughts but they are unrecognized for their true emotion just some out of place sense of something.

Light grey and orange now fading into yellows and reds as I move through pockets of warm air and sweet smells. Sweet so thick it nauseates me and makes my mind hurt.

All the while a sound playing in the background too muffled to understand but set as static to wash out the distractions.

Glimpses now of skeletal remains of dead angels impaled on black stone spires sword in hand above mounds of sand blasted skulls.

There is a storm brewing and I feel that it’s going to RAIN!