morning snapshot
the clouds were a frozen maelstrom above the city this morning.
like a painting hanging above the skyline. one involving white and blue, a brush that had been washed too many times, and an artist feeling angry but lazy.
something ominous in the stillness. a threat from another dimension. something that happened a thousand years ago and its image just caught up to now. or maybe a prophecy. i don’t know.
i’d glance down to drive, and when i looked back up it was like the canvas had been turned on its side. the sky moves slowly, but it’s always moving.
