florencía

028

TWO TRUTHS, ONE LIE

Labyrinths grew weary with the unceasing infiltration of solemnity and naturist melodies; from the measly chirps of crickets, to the gruff cawing of an amassing murder of crows. From the distant applauding of the mid-autumn leaves upon the sparseness of trees as they sway, to the mastication of dried up straw as it fray wearingly under trekking foot. A heavenly incentive of natural symphony beyond the mission of the mind hopelessly devoted to anticipated survival as the circadian cycle passerby. Twilight consumed the atmosphere in its entirety, rural Italy indicted with the means of natures emotional vulnerability upon the land as the cycle of history repeated. Soles bled with the antagonistic essence of millions of dead, dried up blades of the grassy meadow, long and needy as they wear and tear the exhausted flesh of taunted seeker. And with each and every rapid encounter, the native yellow of the land, it gradually grew flush with a pretty crimson indication of her devotion, painting the infamous meadow red with her burning desire.

The soles alternated, taking turns ramming ruthlessly into the submissiveness of the soil, mushing insects and snapping twigs with the force of her sprinting feet. The soles hot in attempts to self soothe as they bled like never before, priding her to run faster than ever before. Through the city, through the agriculture of the country— her home land— and still they never ceased to stop on foot as they searched. Her heart paced a million miles a minute beyond every huff, inhale, puff, exhale, gasp, and struggled sob they had left to exert. Every last tear, bead of sweat, and body fluid that was left to fall, having had dried up with the expeditious pump of adrenaline and eternal consternation rushing almost unceasingly, and consumingly through the blue veins of a naively tactful damsel. Miles racked on the stamina of an instinctive track star, traveling thoroughly through the land of Santo Domingo at the means of subconsciousness and sacrificial ambition with an ultimatum hot on her tail. Her pace accumulated as the sun became restless behind the clouds that hovered aimlessly over her country; her heart beat rapid as the evening consumed D.R. and all its multifaceted people.

The tension within and without the temple grew greater, and still she ran. She traveled across borders and barriers, and sprinted wholeheartedly into a fantasy world of normality and forevermore. For the mind had levitated from existence within the close mindedness of the victimization of the cranial complex and began to bide in the abyss of the unknowingness of imagined realism. Subconscious urged the body to patronize, feeling it flush with fluster and the daunting means of eternal exhaustion and desired halt. Tiresome and unceasingly, they sobbed as they sprinted towards the light that distanced itself with each and every intrepid encounter of bare soles against the dewiness of the earth below, becoming more and more disappointed with the diminish of hope as they did. She wailed, unstopping and unwavering, crying out desperately for her as the early hours of the morning crept, and feasting selfishly on the evident amalgamation of ache in the limbs of an ambitious creator. She kept on, sprinting into the melancholic morning of the new day, eyes dull with the explosion of the pupils under the Orion gray of the corpulent clouds above an anatomy trembling as it's stamina wore thin. Feeling the bar of stamina melt away under the frigidity of the tears beginning to fall heedlessly upon the flesh of a viciously ardent body, exerting wholesomely all the strength and will the body had left to keep pushing on in missions to escape before collapsing. The micro needles of the flora dug into the flesh of the body, heaving in despair; she curled up, panting and gasping as they gazed up at the somber grays of the floating masses above, watching their emotions and feeling them grace the flesh of her body in the transpire of their very own vehemence.