Treadmill Inertia

There is a smell of burning tea leaves and 8:00 pm frustration now.The incense of innocence in the air, thickening with the ashes of a fleeting evening. A lazy bio-scope of stifled and conditioned breath. Whirring. With organic reels of nerves and blood and flesh and protoplasm. A constant shifting of it's anti-pendulum body in impossible lines to break. Small and big clusters of attentions spans, shifting in an odd square-tiled walk of absurd patterns. So much is seen and heard. Nothing registered. And suddenly you wonder where else you have been running. Where else indeed.