Soar

You wiggle your way through a tiny corridor. Bumping and kicking, you make your way through the horde of cattle and find a vacant spot towards the back. Curses dispel under your exasperated breath as you find your seat to the right, in between two others. Becoming uncomfortably close, you hug shoulders as you sit. The dimly lit and barely visible sign above signals your belt, and being a good boy, you do as you're told. A man, lanky with receding hair, makes his way past. Back and forth he walks, and every time you try to make eye contact, he quickly diverts his eyes. The heart you so lovingly locked away in your chest is cast off the ship by an unsightly anchor, reaching it's way to the precipice of your bottomless sea. A soothing voice enters the echelons of your ear canals, whispering sweet nothings. Gas ignites, and a whirring noise battles with the dulcet tones. She fights valiantly, but she is just a sole soldier fighting against the Third Reich,and thus her outcome is inevitable. As her decrepit body is run over, the whirring becomes overbearing, beating into your brain like a mallet. Bloodied and bruised, the noises increase in pitch until you bring in a worried gulp, bringing you back down to earth as your soul departs. You hear the worst is coming- that the storm is approaching, but you neither hear or see it. Lights flicker off as you gain ascension. Beams become dots, and eventually the cool March air is all you can see. You tilt up ever so slightly to a forty five degree angle, and that's when the gum you chew starts to stale and tear about as your constantly moving teeth eviscerate it. You switch to music for comfort, and the calm songs you so thoughtfully downloaded overcome the whirring that hangs like an omnipresent being. Even more lights flicker off, and now all there's to see is the pitch black hole blanketing your view. You continually gain in speed, and you still hang onto the edge of your seat, prepared for the worst. Like a gentle cocktease, the mother that cradles you so dearly ever so slowly let's you dip, only to hold you back up again. She does this over and over, as if continually getting you ready for the ineviatble drop as you face plant into the cold hard and dewed ground below - but it never comes. Before you realize it, the worst is over for now; the lanky man walks back with tidings of fair pleasure and the lights slowly make their grand reappearance. You sit in patience as your anchored heart breaks from its chain of salvation and resurfaces. You breathe a small, contented sigh as you look to your left and sigh the lightly tinted hues of a new day.

And you sit in constant paranoia over the moment your soul reattaches itself back to firm soil