Frantic Beauty

You feel it in the fingertips of the heart. Blind. Reaching out through the central nervous system. Carving into you like clay, working through you like putty.  For a moment it rests behind the eyes, and you stop, paralyzed. Because before you know what it is, you see it in its entirety. And its too much.  The world is too rigid and time is too steady and it will never fit, there's no place. Its hopeless and you haven't even begun. Oceans of peach pits…