The River

Hate. Deciding what to name something. A task in and of itself. 'Someone's River' seems appropriate enough. Describes a stream of consciousness. Creates imagery, images, imagination. Aspiring writer, filmmaker, the usual creative person without an outlet, except for the infinite abyss of the online world. Great, thought I could hold out but obviously not. here we are, introduced so indirectly, through filter upon technological filter. Hello, how are you? Can I buy a drink? A piece of your mind? We'll be in love soon enough. Here you go...

This river is swelling, refusing to follow its beaten path
Enslaving its neighboring banks
Taking them along for its ride
Feet being swept off ankles
Found months and miles away
Confusion setting in while the fishermen begin hunting instead
Not worth any of this
To live! and the cruelty of it all
So much invested in a grain of sand
Soon to be washed away with the rest of us
The river is flooding me, fueling me
Lying to me through its babbling voice
Encouraging me to jump in, to join it
To follow it to where it meets the ocean
And becomes another withered vein in its rotting corpse