Fast Moving

A FLAGELLATION IN worD-(association)-MINOR
or
How I want to spend my summer vacation

Fast moving, fast flying, ever-whirling streams of amber grain and make-it-happen and success and all the rest that comes with an endless beartrap of social responsiblities. Will it crush the spirit, that writhing growing hexus, that drags you away from all the things you love and hate and want and need and want to throw away, will it pull you towards some ad infinitum some spinning uncontrollable unemotional "get in your cubicle!" and "get down to business!" What about the wind and the rain and the beckoning wetland and the swept mountain side, what about the hard rock and the soft soil it turns into and turns over. bring me the untuned and discard the social propping that *adorns* that latent beauty that wants to scream "let me run." get away from me you meandering pestering judgement, you worn-in do and don't do, let me achieve some clarity, some vision, something to hold on to. something that isn't what's he got what's he own what's he WORTH?! endless mindless chatter in an overflowing web of tangled neuron, disorganized visions of how it should be and how it is. unclear sights and sounds and feeling of quesiness. angry people angry at impulsive actions and poorly thought out apologies and wild responses (and where the hell is that catharsis perhaps its hiding, perhaps in the log, perhaps under the stone, perhaps within. perhaps all the important looking-in and looking-out get masked beneath a do do do go go go) and misplaced temperments. where will it go or is this it?