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The Spring Serpent

The sweltering heat is suffocating me, breathing itself into my lungs and expanding my mind until I'm swallowing the Earth and I can hear everyone screaming. The dark gray clouds hover, flashing down swords and swinging hammers in my face. The pale sunset looks almost hazardous in these seperating times. I reach out, trying to grasp at these violent delights, thin and pale against the darkness, and almost feel like I'm part of something.

The heat travels through the soles of my shoes, mocking me. I can feel the almost-here-but-not-quite lust and insanity and chaos that brings along with it freedom and power and happiness, the feeling of summer. Something sad is leaving, something terrible is dying off, and you can feel it in your bones. A restlessness is slithering into my soul, a snake in its gentlest form, but a snake nonetheless. I can feel it gnawing at my presistence, "why don't you just take this little..." And the 'no' that rests on the tip of my tongue dies in a gasp of pleasure, a sign of contentment, a smile.

I can't wait for it. My shorts will be too short and I'll go out in my bikini and blow this town. We'll speed and stop, drift into an empty parking lot and then spend our time building fires and dancing like heathens. The feather head dresses might seem mad now, but they're loosing their insanity and I feel an itch to go to the craft store.





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