What may come

My hair stands still

Air becomes touchable

My soul sinks slow

Gravity becomes draggy

I count and plunge

Against frigid shivers

Away from the truth

Impetuous with stealth

My hair races through

Befriending gust

My blood gushes through

With currents of oceanic deadlines

My mind speeding illicitly

Adrenaline becomes red

I become a havoc

Cement liquefied in me


A frantic strand

Electrocuting wire

Wreaking havoc in me

Just because of

What may come

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/frantic/”>Frantic</a&gt;


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