Monday, August 17, 2009

What is this?

What is this?

This is a dream.
I'm dancing with a tank, the world is glorious like a technicolor musical.
I'm light on my feet as I bound back and forth.

This is not a dream.
This is a nightmare.
What am I doing?
I'm a small, dinky, insignificant blip in this world; that tank can crush me in without notice.
But I can't let the tank pass me, it must not go beyond my position.

This is not a nightmare.
This is reality.
I'm terrified.
I feel pain in my skull from the rush of adrenaline.
I feel it in my fingertips all the way to my toes.
But I also feel the pain in the eyes of the man behind the wheel.
He doesn't want to be here any more than I do.

This is not the time to question my actions.
I breath deeply, I am an impenetrable force.
This tank isn't going to get past me.
If it tries to change its course, I'm changing my position accordingly.
It must not pass me, these tanks don't belong here.
And I'm going to do something about it!

1 comment:

  1. Nate, you are a very good writer. In this writing, please loose the line breaks and write in paragraph format, or use the shape of the page in a more concrete way. This writing feels like a poem and the scope of this class does not include instruction in poetry writing. Also, I feel that your writing could benefit from more detailed description of objects. Imagine if you took time to consider the tank and the objects around the people, and the people, all as art objects that need to be described in detail.

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