American

Soft whispers, bellowing yawns and a microsecond of silence between the bustling vibrations of footsteps from one side of the concrete to the other. 

Chatterbox types have talk bubbles floating left and right. Introvert faces hide behind powdered cheeks and tainted lips. 

The growling thunder echoes through the lanes of delayed traffic, where red and yellow beams light the ways home. It slithers through alleys, where cooks and delivery drivers puff drags of Marlboro.  

We are wholes. Whole bodies and functioning civilians.

Halves in entitity. Partially breathing, partially mechanically intact like a Prius. 

Suits and pencil skirts walk block after block towards monetary positions for the heaven they envision. 

Bikers roar down the main street. Bus travelers await on street corners with clear ponchos and ashy black umbrellas. Pedestrians take shelter under the canopies of pharmacies and run down cafes. 

All the while, there is an unawareness of another living aspect. Its embedded in the skyscraper walls and rusted, embellished statues around the squares. 

After countless morning coffee blends and business lunches, one may not be able to resurrect from the normalized motions of typing hollow words and pumping gas. 

Its the willingness to swim out of your own head, open your eyes and catch your breath to find that what you’ve been swimming towards was never ahead but above you.

Reviews

[SquinklaPsyOps]

Is interesting how it expresses a part of modern experience that comforts persons to belong to a piece of programmed image forced in their minds.

Is it south american or north american.