Freestyle Academy proudly presents

Propelled: A Senior Surreal Photo by Aiden Zucker (2012)

Ssshhh I'm creating, can't you see I'm busy? Your voice is distant and fuzzy, and as I'm flying it's breezy. Over the city, I am propelled by a meld of my once-quelled imagination clouds, upheld by my innate desire to excel, my drive unparalleled and frequently underrated. In this moment my thoughts take-off, sedated by the inspiration that's seeping into my skin. My brainstorm is soaking a third of this city of tin. Already parts of my subconscious are sprouting: up through the cracks in the sidewalk, they're shouting. This urban metamorphosis transforms the skyline: right angles of buildings morph into organic randomness-rhymes I listen to the soundtrack of the precipitation: hissing against the metal buildings in their earthly migration but with no hesitation I'm moving past the noise, accelerating in my thought-powered aviation toy. Now the whir of the plane meshes with the sounds of the rain: a composition that, as a whole, is the sound of my brain. Working and churning, grinning and spinning, gears turning, my head is hatless, but my mind is brimming. Brimming and humming, living above it, This story, I covet, I don't like it, I love it. A narrative torn from the worn pages of a genius summit. But be forewarned of it, it's an elusive storm: it forms when it pleases, choosing days to be born. It teases and leaves grief-creases on your sleeveless T-shirts, merciless like a policeless memory thief: it hurts. But I am beefless, my disbelief tree is leafless. I pray sheepishly to the weather man until the next hurricane graces my beaches.
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