02 | moving

// it's moving, moving at a rapid speed- as if I can't pinpoint the pupils dilated on a middle of glitter ranging; when I try to move ahead, it's pushing me back in the swallowing saliva of hallucinations. It's gazillion bubbles, when the new deadpool's are viewing ahead. I don't wanna be the talking stacked, while pretending to be as nobody; yet I can't just be lost, lost of spring brings. It's not rooting, neither let me root. It just rotates around the orbital sander of renting cubes, and lies- pushing me hard to move forward. I can't seem to move, yet it doesn't stop, pushing ahead until I can't find my own breathing in the crowd of unknown flowers blooming with thrones to pierce. //