Relativity Fest

By Scary Halloween 

They call me Mister Sir. 

I'm a steam rolling snow ball ever expanding in a  full throttle trajectory into a steering abyss of blunders, mishaps, tragedy and laughter. 

The stuff from which  impulse is made of, the crawling itch under  skin, a  burning singularity  in the brain that hurls the mind to the precipice of gratification. 

However, when the leap is taken, it loses its allure quickly . In fact, immediately. 

Very instantaneously , based on initial trajectory, weight, acceleration and of course distance. 

Although what might seem a lifetime regretting during the leap, it ends in the fleeting moment of initial decision.  

Only one thing to do before the grinding halt, leap again.