Internal Cues of Approaching Storms

Fluctuations of mentality quiver the flesh.  Subtle tremors illuminate the core to its fundamental foundation.

An inward shift beckons, and from within we summon forth a siren’s song, one that will both infatuate and mesmerize all those parties indecently exposed to the inner workings of an assembly line that has yet to produce all that which it had previously promised.

Before a fever strikes, the initial beads of sweat begin their perspiration.  Prior to a sweeping illness, we take for granted what we have and how we utilize the blessings we’ve been bestowed.  But the sickness keys us into just how fortunate we truly are.  It contrasts daily life with a portrait of contrast that at first fills us completely with an embalming sense of fear.  Here, something as primitive as breath itself becomes a luxury, something that we swear to, something that we promise, if we are able to land on both feet, that we will never take such graces for granted again.

An itch upon the chin gives away the inner platitude of the

Sickness creeping, one that we swore in vain, an oath betrayed, a tapestry marred, by bitter triggers, sirens, smoking rings and gesticulations.  Here then, the twitches and tingeing tautness is overwrought yet well defined.