This Way To The End of The World
*
A day of wound-licking. Watching the rain come down and pacing from window to window. The tang of ozone still in the air. We're both jumpy, skittish, ill at ease.
How such a small disaster can claim you.
*
I should go for a walk or something, but it feels beyond me.
*
My neighbor has fired up his grinder. More Pakistani street dentistry sounds. That machine of his makes a noise that mimics exactly the mood I'm in right now.
Fuck me running.
*
Namaste.
***
posted by tearful dishwasher at 3:16 PM
4 Comments:
yup. sometimes it's like this.
love the haunting image. reminds me of His Dark Materials.
Yes, Maggie. Sometimes it is.
You are an inspiration. I'm glad you stopped by.
yrs-
tearful
I remember those terrible storms with my son--not small, these disasters.
Remembering now, even still, I have to tell myself to breathe.
Take care of yourself, dear Tearful.
Mim-
Thank you. I know in ten or twenty years this will be over. I think I'll be scarred for life.
But scars are good. They remind you that you lived.
Damn the torpedos, full speed ahead!
yrs-
tearful
Post a Comment
<< Home