I am still recovering, my body its, mercury and Magnesium are all about were they were not, before. Higher than normal and low enough for me to feel disrespected. My heart skips a beat at anticipating my next few moves. With my ever existent problems and growing concern for how to complete them without b###s%&@ happening. My wings levitate me off the ground slightly and I fluster my garments. I fasten my jogging pants and wrestle with the current pace of my thoughts. My feet touch the ground firmly and I head towards anyplace. My increase in control and the spasmatic off and on abilities are a reminder of everything not to do. My insides shift and my stiches on my abdomen stretch painfully. I rest my senses on the furthest thing imaginable. It is not happiness, which is at a close second but murmurs or sounds. I can sense the restless mind of a demon.
My idea of quick is different than yours. Literally meaning that I do not see that I may get to one thousand years old. Also saying that you may not literally see it (hopefully), but that you view days in short spans. I think of the wasted time and countless hours of patient thinking. With the times of whoever calls upon these things being excessive and seemingly frivolent. With my life in their minds and counting my years. My next thing is coming up however. Which says however patient I may be you are not. Luckily I keep my s%#@ tight like a tiger.