We held hands and wished away the days, whilst the walking dead ran repeatability into harms way. The seering sun baked plains seem so deserted that day, an unmistakable exodus as you walked your miracle mile with a blank expression and vacant smile. We saw the entertainment-news, heard the surround-sound gunshots and felt the indescribable human pain, as you stumbled into temporarily white-washed walls, synergistically pathetic, obliviously incompetent. This is where the story ends. I dreamt last night of a world where people cared, a world where this sentence is more than text on your computer screen, a world where dreams came true. I hope I never wake up again.
(August 2004)
River Hunt
Artist, Writer, Visionary
www.riverhunt.org
Artist, Writer, Visionary
www.riverhunt.org
