restless, cwk

Wonder, floating in mostly empty space, is easier than calling. Low conversations with quick glances over the shoulder. Bending over backwards to assume, landing on the wrong angle and breaking ankle, sometimes neck. We are expected to revel in our individuality while walking the same road at the same pace with everyone else.

Wanderlust, romanticised by paper-thin minds, reflects a love of the world. Blissfully unaware of the dirty side of the coin, tails of abandon and confusion. My seventh face with her feet parallel to mine, a winter as normal as my eternal summer? Or in my shadow, lagging by mere centimeters? 

I want to know how you're doing, imprinting your thumb in the same spot I do, or signing autographs for flash photography. How are we the same person still, in places with different conversations and railway systems? Even the blood in our veins is not answer. 

Time slows, in our favour?, chances repeat, any taken? The loves for lines encircle, we enter and exit the same wormholes. Oblivious is unharmed, even with skulls on flame. But I know you, traveller of universe, as you know me, traveller of time. Boughed down by the souls of steel we traded our youths for. 

Heads in clouds, one in daydream and the other in satisfaction. One's wonder in curiousity that kills, the other in smartness that pays off. Nonchalance, one with better things to care of and the other who keeps it like rocks in pockets.

Split, unsure the number of pieces. But if we meet halfway won't we form the best of the original, with your endure and my derange? You with the parallel feet, am I envious or disdained? 

Your travels, the solo airplane rides and desire to unbox yourself. The stamina, with your feet always dirtied by nature and the marvel of actual clouds. A difference in our hearts, one quickened by treks and the other by public speaking. Run, run, run. Stop, stop, stop.

Just one of my many parallels, in the universe next door and also beside me in a repositioned bed. Run, stop, run, stop, run, stop, our hearts in and out of sync. Maybe you think of me the way I do you, thoughts of settling and a way with imagination instead of adrenaline.

Meet me back here and we will take turns to drive, the same roads this time.