The sky is a radiating strobe. A throbbing pulse of blood orange implosions shoots from the rolling folds ahead. Dunes birth rising arcing seeps of tangerine and citrine. A rapid current of illuminated dye trails in thin convergent streams of neon light green stringed glass bead of day—looming quick through ultraviolet navy oil-slick breaths of silver slivered night. My life is thirsty. My pace: steady, though slow. My mind’s in hyper-drive and racing—the shrieking taffy stretched clouds in haloed spaces up head. The temperamental planet spins, out of control. Inertia grates Earth’s surface with a crushing pressure that only the most resilient matter resists, to survive. Lifeless, gusty dunes surround and beneath feel powder-sugar fine. My feet imprint cool earthen dough while dazzles of day press and shatter the iced exhales of night—in glittering shrapnel moments of opportunity to distinguish one swaying chain of tracks, looming ahead as well as behind…
