5 mins..

Early morning spring chill

Goofy fake happiness is plastered on across the face of a girl presented

With what? What?

A new car! No, no, no…

A plane a rusty paint peeling old weather beaten plane.

The nice pilot a gentle old man,

Old man doing familiarization flights for bizarre

Reasons, reasons unknown to me.

My seat is front-left on this ratty plane

That has a distinct odor of old paint and old vinyl.

The old man prods some paraphernalia and a creepy

Chugga, chug, chug emits

And spins, spins, spins the spindly

Propeller is humming

Like the bumble bee

That hum is constant like


continuality of a lively hum.

Hum, hum, we take off

Flying is my contract to break

Break my binds that are constraining me

Me to what?

Gravity yes,

But not my affixation to life

Ants are the people I see below

Ants so they are worthless to nothingness

I am allotted five minutes you see only five..

Five is enough, enough to last an hour, a day, a year but a decade is to only test.

Test my life.

Test my mortal coil with sharp descent and

Quick recovery to the light skies..

My, my the old pilot is quick, quick to realize my sly intent.

For my five minutes is gone and my last resort is to use this tool of five minutes and make it mine through challenge, through rain, through beatings, through abuse, through misery, through it all

For it is all mine, only mine.


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