The sleeping thoughts of Cosmonaut Antilles Chesterton

A constant speed is needed

here, for to not have

it so means we won’t

escape this pull called gravitas

now dragging us back. Even

now I can sense that

sobriety that is partner to

convention latching onto us, rattling

our complacency. Oh no, we’ve

lost humour and even mirth

is sliding backwards. Here, grab

my hand, you sallow fool.

I have you. Now strap

yourself down so we can

velocitate ourselves out of this

dangerous pull. If we

must strain, then let us

strain together and hopefully

cross that threshold and

finally be free of this

horrid world and its lack

of levity, forsaking it for

reality instead. Dour. Sullen. Reality.


© 2017 L. Tafa


Author: b20f08

I enjoy solo wargaming and writing. The first caters to the boy that never grew up; the latter satisfies a deep desire to communicate. Cheers.

1 thought on “The sleeping thoughts of Cosmonaut Antilles Chesterton”

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