Snipped Fragrances

Aching dreams bring wild fires, with the dire fears that exist beneath.

A chaotic roadway. Out of town was a field crowded with eyelines and lenses. Circular irises ignored in the distance. The difference exists between the carefree and the fearless. I’m biting my finger. Nails between teeth. It’s not just what’s in my car, I’m constantly tweaking. A wake, a statue; stone walled screams
are briskly unleashed,
in sleep released.
There are so many themes which constantly repeat. I arrive. Inside. A dark ponytail figure answered the door, but from the outside of a house; which was apparently my own home.
His hair was in a silent clip-up making you almost avoid the notion of his own care toward external appearance, which made him appear less dangerous. He was, however, leaning upon a metal baseball bat with two others behind him. The bat rested upon his left foot. Arms grab from behind me, I didn’t think to check or look; too focused upon Ponyboy’s strange persona, which overwhelmed me in an indescribable way. The arms grab and tie my arms against my exposed body, and I’m pinned in the grip of a wrangled strangle. I’m struggling before my face becomes mangled; entangled with the rising bat. It rests upon Ponytail’s back before I hear the words: 

“Peek-a-boo”

“Don’t cha know who we is?”

“I found you cowboy.”

Thwaccck