... Control ...

 

Reality Collapsing

Fold upon fold, layer upon layer...
Invisible threads work the loom that weaves the Cloak of Personality we wear and encircles our wrists and ankles like a marionette puppet doll dancing to a dark, sombre lullaby ....

The Song is a Symphony

Each note sourced from everything we ever touch, ever see, ever do, every lesson learnt ...

The things that shape us.

The Chorus Swells

The dance becomes more intricate and the notes crash around us like a deafening cacophony. The poignant strains and esoteric choir become a harsh discordant wail ...

White noise and dark dirges

The Cloak Grows Heavy with Life Experiences. 

The dance steps becomes more intricate and complex.
The music becomes a roar and we realise ....

Nothing.

This is What We Crave

Our waking moments become filled with visions of running though fields of imaginary flowers, wind in our hair and our arms and legs all akimbo, naked to the elements and the open to the unique sensations previously denied to us ...


Nothing to sabotage our choices.

The Cloak

Stiff, rigid and confining lies at our feet,

We feel the kiss of the breeze on our virgin soft skin, aspects of ourselves so long 'protected' from the elements ...

 Discarded.

The Breeze

The fresh scent of Unrealised Opportunities.
Exotic, alluring, heady aromas which titilate and excite our senses.


A featherlight kiss on our exposed psyche.
We revel in the Emancipation as sensations not known envelope us and the wind moves in closer,
enveloping us as it licks at us and whispers sweet seduction to our ears....

... Freedom ...

 Kell
xxxx