'its already too late' he says walking next to the window on the 3rd floor that lets the insider see the rainy day that exists physically only for those on the outside, 'i must get going. yes! i must; not a second more; not a second to lose' he pointed his finger at the roof, just as his grandpa used to do when giving speeches at the manor of the red carpet. 'but...' tried to said karen. 'no but's! it's time, yes, time; it's running out. not a second to waste!' and out the door he went, directly to the elevator. he clicked the arrow pointing downwards and stepped into the green doors. he saw the buildings through the clear glass and imagined himself as a bird flying between them, letting his body drift with the air currents. he walked out and entered the main lobby. gold and red and chandeliers everywhere! everywhere! a sweet smell filled the room and he felt sick to his stomach. 'such a strange weather' he thought, glancing at the sky through the light-tunnels. strange indeed was the weather that day, and yet his good mood wouldn't end.
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high thoughts
Poetryjust some stuff i write when high (not particularly good and not exactly well written) TW: suicide and depression stuff
