Counteractive.

It is a matter acuity,
Rolling backwards in time.

It is a complex mathematical equation,
A compelling scientific experiment,
A precarious climb to the top of
a seemingly unconquerable mountain.

It takes a calculating mind,
A body in complete control,
And an acute desire to be somewhere else.
Anywhere else, really.

It is not something to be completed on a whim,
Oh no.
This is no child's play.
No trip to the candy store;
It is a crawl across a battlefield,
In which your mind is your enemy,
And the rules of god threaten to keep you grounded.
You don't want to be grounded.

You want to fly.
Through time
Through space
Through the intricately woven pattern
That keeps us planted within ourselves
Within our time
Within our space.

Calculate:
The speed at which you are moving
The energy which you are exorting
The movement of your molecules against the weight of time.

Is time sticking to your body
Attaching itself to your physical being?
Refusing to let you go?
It will. It will do this.
It is as if it can sense,
Within you,
The desire to experience
The ecstasy of being freed.

But no matter how much it clings
It cannot touch
The yearning with which you need to fill your entire body.
Allow it to consume every part of your being
Until it overflows
Seeping out of every pore
And covering you.
Encased.

It will fight the power of time
Cover your body so that the rules of physics
Slip right off of you
Falling to the ground
Where they will be stuck by their self-imposed laws of gravity.
A most tragic suicide, really.

But as they become trapped
These forsaken molecules of time
You are free.
Free to begin moving
Free to begin rolling
Backwards in time.
So flow from this universe
Out into another
Into another space
Another time
Another place.

It is a matter of precision,
Rolling backwards in time.