I have a dream. Enough said.

"Wait, that does not meet the minimum word requirement for this challenge! Can't just end there.Shoot," she thinks. "Have to say something to get it up," she tells herself as she hurridly searches the collassium of dead dreams for any that can be resurrected. She probes past skeleton ideas. Desires burried alive by callous symphonies entitled "you're never gonna make it." Those indeed never made it to reality.

"Try that one again." "No, this one" "this one had potential." She argues with herself. A heated cross examination. She is Judge, prosecutor and Defence. Which dream will stand? "Oh, remember Martin luther had a dream" she interjects herself with a non-sequitor so leisurely she forgets she's looking at her own dreams. She recollects saying "Mr Luther is a dead king now. You're still living so focus on living dreams. No use juggling dead men's thoughts." She continues more desparetly for the sake of preserving the integrity of this challenge. Realising she might be reaching 300 words, she asks herself to adjourn for a moment. She concludes by saying "I must want something. Something bigger than myself. It must be here. It must be that:

I have a dream. Enough said."

Eternity, more like infinity. Or maybe just eat in entirety. See words are as fluid as time compounded into galaxies future and galaxies past. I hear the echoes bounce about my mind. It is game time in here as I reach for the first fruit of thought no pennies needed just dried up hands reaching out for a french fry, maybe more. There is no telling where it begins. No comprehending its end. Simply put: a long day's labour will have your stomach growl by dusk. Make your soul crave some satisfaction as it forces your body to bend into a question mark and asking, is it dinner time yet. When the ride home takes longer than usual and traffic seems stagnant. Stationary. Your body will ache and scream and beg.

Feed me!

It will feel like an eternity in hell. minutes later you will rush for the kitchen and pile an entire chicken with a side of french fries into your belly. Suddenly, the 18 minutes it took you to drive home from work will no longer be the eternity it felt like. Your crazed desire to eat in entirity will be quenched by a seeming infinity of french fries and 18 minutes will be just that. An eternity come and gone.

Are You coming to the tree

To see how we hang about as the canopy of living art. His body ,a rotting cadaver blowing in the wind. He was once the carpenter at the corner, he had a wife and kids. His last breath was a prayer for them to be free. He, a black fruit hanging from a tree.