Wednesday, 27 April 2011

Keisuke is in a room. Unaware that Asuka is walking towards him. 

Performance of the joke kind. And they look at you. Judge. Sizing you up and deciding with an almost jocoseness tone what character box they're going to tuck you into. Not based on anything you have done. Really. Staring into those double barrel shot gun eyes, you don't see an end or darkness - something of what connotes end but instead flashes hope. That music that rings out to you. Pictures of court fields, best friends and throngs of laughter. He who breathes for you and squeezes your heart. His fist tender to the touch. Control. Of memories. Telling time at four and sitting on landings with siblings, scared. When summer days went on forever, corn fields and first kisses.
No they will not take that from you. And as that soul gets sucked out with no control, take victory in what is locked inside. Dance, dance, dance.  

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