Poetry

Flight

Written By Jacob Ibrag

He slowly turns on the old disgusting radio. It still smells like

that Screwdriver from last night. The noise is a slow trance. He sits

on the edge of the bed. Shuffles the tips of his feet. Slowly wobbles his

head to the slow beat. Allows the slow trance to invade his mind, as it drips

throughout every vessel in his body. His hands infected, he moves them in the air.

Get up. Its taking over. He takes off his clothing and turns the music to its max volume

level. Cologne reeking off his body, orgies of scents meet together and birth a new addictive

strand. He moves to the window and removes the black shades. His mind purely fueled by this

slow trance. Lights off. He opens his windows and step on the ledge. Open his arms. His body

exposed to humid summer air. Turns on his phone and dials a number. ‘I’m going to finally do

it, are you watching…’ Phone off. Reaches for the sky and closes his eyes. His grin now a decent

smile. Slowly, he starts to decrease the support of his body. Losing grasp of the ledge, he jumps

up in the air. Every second slows down to the point of almost complete petrification of the

complete world. He stared up into the sky and quickly shut his eyes after accepting

the situation. The action is done, time starts to catch up with him. Falling,

falling faster, falling from the 115th floor, falling to never remember

but to never forget. Suddenly his body starts to feel completely

wet, as if he just woke up in his bed. His mother pouring

ice water in his face. ‘I almost flew.’


Painting By leventep

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